


Teach Me

by XxTheDarkLordxX



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Auror Training, Blow Jobs, Consent, Face-Fucking, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Humor, Legilimency, Limited Angst, M/M, Magical Theory, Ministry of Magic, Mutual Pining, Occlumency, Occlumency lessons, Pining Harry Potter, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-03-27 13:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13881393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxTheDarkLordxX/pseuds/XxTheDarkLordxX
Summary: "If you can’t learn Occlumency, then you can’t become an Auror.”No.All of this couldn’t be for nothing. Harry hadn’t spent so much time proving himself, proving that he was more than just a famous name for all of this to go to shite. “This can’t be the end.”"I have someone in mind that could teach you if you are willing, but I can't guarantee he will help, especially considering your... past.""You don't meanMalfoy, do you?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank Ren and Jess for listening to me and helping me mentally. I needed all the support you both gave me.
> 
> This story was for Consent Fest and It truly was an awesome experience being apart of that. I loved writing this, despite moments of frustration.
> 
> [Disclaimer] I do not own Harry Potter in any way, shape or form. All rights to the characters are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. The only thing is mine is the way I spin the story. It is for entertainment only and not part of the official storyline.

“You need to learn Occlumency,” Newman, his trainer, informed him firmly, stance suggesting Harry not argue.

“No.” Harry knew saying no to his superior was never a good idea. This was the person who held his entire future in their hands. If he wanted to become an Auror, then he  _needed_ her seal of approval. When Newman arched her brows incredulously, he rushed to explain.

“Is there another way? I tried learning Occlumency as a teenager and it was a total disaster.”

Newman wasn’t one for being polite when she didn’t have to be. So, when she looked at him in annoyance, Harry wasn’t even surprised.  

 “Potter,” she began, sigh coming out in frustration. “Your test scores are some of the highest the Ministry has ever seen. Your marks in defense are excellent, your charms are superb, transfiguration was a surprise—but you manage it well, and even your potions are passable.” Harry winced at the last one, he knew that his potion skills weren’t the best, but it was  _definitely_ better than it used to be. Snape could take that to the grave and shove it.

“Curse breaking is something you picked up well, countering dark magic was a breeze, translating runes seems to be something you could do as a fallback if you ever change your mind about becoming an Auror. Every test I give you, you always manage to surprise me.” Harry just  _knew_ there was more coming. Newman wasn’t the kind of person to say positive things without adding an insult somewhere.

“ _But_.” He sighed heavily when she continued. “None of this will mean anything if you can’t protect your mind.”

 When he opened his mouth to argue, Newman barreled forward—not giving him a single inch.

“If you get captured at any point during a mission, you are a liability if your mind is open. Occlumency is  _vital_. Do you have any idea of the clearance an Auror is granted? Or the secrets that you are trusted with? Occlumency is an Aurors greatest defense.”

Harry sighed as he tried not to look too pleading, he knew she was right—knew that Occlumency was a needed skill, but— “I’ve tried learning it on my own. I’ve read the theories, practiced the calming methods, but it just doesn’t work.”

Newman shrugged in an uncaring manner. “I cannot sign off on anything past this. If you can’t learn Occlumency, then you can’t become an Auror.”

 _No_. All of this couldn’t be for nothing. Harry hadn’t spent so much time proving himself, proving that he was more than just a famous name for all of this to go to shite. “This can’t be the end.” He wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to himself. Either way, the sentiment was the same.

Harry bit his lip as he tried to find a solution. “Could you teach me? I’ll stay after training or come in on my days off.” Desperation was bleeding through, but he wanted her to  _understand_  just what this meant to him.

Newman smiled slightly before shaking her head. “I’m not qualified to teach Occlumency. Not just anyone can teach the subject. Same as any professor or instructor.”

Before his shoulders slumped too much past pathetic, Newman hummed thoughtfully. “Although, I do believe I know someone who can help you.”

Harry snapped his head up quickly, hope clawing at his throat.  _Anyone._  He would take anyone.

“He typically doesn’t teach Occlumency often, mainly teaches a wide variety of other skills when the Ministry leases him.” There was an odd pause as she looked at him expectantly. “I can’t guarantee he will teach you, especially with your… past.”

There was amusement in her eyes and it had Harry wondering who she could be talking about. It wasn’t until he was going to cave and ask who she meant, that it made sense. He smacked his face, wondering if he could do this.           

 “You don’t mean  _Malfoy_ , do you?” The man was a freelance specialist that was hired by the Ministry to teach at seminars or special classes when certain skills were requested. They had crossed paths quite a few times, but it was never more than a few words or polite nods—especially outside of the Ministry or when it involved Teddy.  

Newman laughed in delight and not for the first time, he wondered why the Ministry would hire such a sadistic person.

* * *

 

Harry paused in front of Malfoy’s office wondering if he could do this. It wasn’t that he thought Malfoy would be a bad teacher, it was just Occlumency in general that was the issue—although, would Malfoy be any good at it? Surely, there was some kind of resentment somewhere inside of Malfoy.

 There weren’t any positive emotions whatsoever when he thought of Occlumency. Snape may have had his reasons for behaving the way he did over the years, but Harry would never be able to get past the feeling of his mind being violated by the harshness of Legilimency. Just the thought of being so vulnerable and open had his stomach rolling.

  With a baited breath, Harry knocked on the door sharply.

“If you are from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, bugger off.”

Harry blinked rapidly, unsure of what that department could have done to anger Malfoy so much.

“If you are going to waste my time, bugger off. Actually—whoever you are, bugger off.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh in surprise as pushed open the door. It would seem that Malfoy held the same personality as before, just a little more vocal. As he walked in, Harry took in the pure chaos that was  _everywhere_. He had always assumed that Malfoy would be rigid in his cleanliness as well as his daily life—but clearly, that had been a false assumption. Folders were placed randomly, parchment strewn across every flat surface and quills were floating in odd spots around the room. It was an utter disaster, but it had Harry relaxing immediately. There was something welcoming about someone else’s chaos that made his own seem acceptable.

Malfoy was reading over a folder, hair loosely tied at the nape, strands falling forward as he waved distractedly towards a chair in front of his desk. Harry picked up discarded books that had been thrown on the chair in amusement as he sat down and waited for him to finish what he was doing.

Usually, patience wasn’t Harry’s strong suit, but as he looked at Malfoy—taking in the relaxed posture, he didn’t mind being kept waiting. Harry had never been granted the time to really take in Malfoy’s features—not up close and certainly not with this kind of attention.

Sharp grey eyes were moving rapidly as they read over the parchment, tongue slightly poked out as if that would help concentration, and a slight furrowing of brows showcasing Malfoy’s dislike over the words written.

Without a need to speak up, there was something fascinating about Malfoy. Harry couldn’t pinpoint what it was that drew his attention, but he was finding himself intrigued.

When Malfoy sighed heavily, throwing the folder down with way more effort than was necessary, Harry sat up straighter. When their eyes met, he watched in amusement as they widened.

A brief silence settled around the room, as if it were a challenge to see who could stay silent the longest.

“You certainly aren’t my 12 o’clock.”

Harry shook his head, hair moving into his eyes with the movement. “No, sorry.” He bit his lip before deciding to just be blunt. “Newman said that you might be able to help me.”

Malfoy arched a lone brow before leaning forward and placing his hands under his chin. “I have a tough time believing you aren’t grasping your Auror training.”

There were a few things Harry wanted to say to that, but the only thing his mind could focus on was— “Is that a  _compliment_?” This was not turning out at all as he had foreseen.

When Malfoy let out a small chuckle, Harry couldn’t help but lean back and look around, hoping to find an explanation  _somewhere_. Perhaps a bold sign stating that a confundus charm had been placed recently?

“I could always insult you, if that is preferable?” offered Malfoy, teasing smirk distracting Harry completely. “My memory is pretty good, and I am sure there are a few insults of our youth that could work.”

Sneers, insults, and glares were something Harry could handle—those were to be expected.  _Teasing_ , however, wasn’t on that list. Just who was this imposter and where was the brooding and moody Malfoy that he had expected?

“We must have vastly different memories. I can’t remember a single insult of yours that was good.” When in doubt, Harry relied on sass. Screw flattery, sarcasm, and sass will get one anywhere.

Malfoy shook his head, lips twitching slightly. “What are you here for, Potter?” There was an almost pleasant edge to his tone and it was freaking Harry out. Was this a new tactic? Be nice until it drives someone insane?

Harry looked down at his fingers, wishing that this wasn’t so hard. “Newman said that if I can’t get Occlumency down, then being an Auror is off the table.” He sighed a little desperately, trying not to let his displeasure show as his eyes remained trained on his hands.

“You need me to teach you Occlumency?” It was stated as a fact, but Harry nodded anyways, not trusting his voice. “Most Aurors learn Occlumency during the first few years of training. Why are you just now trying to learn?” There was no censure in his tone, just a flat statement—almost as if Malfoy was only curious.

Harry winced slightly, not wanting to admit that he had skipped those lessons, not speaking up when the past instructors asked if everyone was okay to move on. “I listened to their methods, but I couldn’t do it. Not that way, and certainly not in a classroom setting.” He wished Occlumency wasn’t so  _hard_ for his mind to grasp. Allowing anyone inside his mind was too personal. Most days Harry didn’t want to be in his own head, let alone allow someone else to see what was there.

“I’ve done  _so much_  to get here,” whispered Harry, eyes closing tightly. “I’ve pushed myself past many personal boundaries to get it all right. But Occlumency is the one thing I never thought I would have to see again. I just—” Harry trailed off, words failing him. Just talking about it was making him feel vulnerable.

Malfoy cleared his throat, forcing Harry to look up at him. There was a calculating gleam in sharp eyes and it had Harry shifting a little nervously.

“Explain. Have you had a past teacher when it came to Occlumency?”

Harry bit his lip, not wanting to talk about his past lessons. The indecision must have shown on his face, because Malfoy shook his head in exasperation.

“I can’t teach you a single thing if you aren’t upfront. Occlumency isn’t a simple charm or frivolous spell. The mind is a dangerous thing to mess with.”

Despite the tone being hard, Harry knew that Malfoy was right. If he did decide to help him, then it would be unwise to hide things.

“In my fifth year,” Harry began voice barely reaching above a whisper and eyes downcast once more. “Snape was ordered to teach me.”

“No,” Malfoy uttered, voice betraying a sadness that Harry had never expected. It caused him to look up curiously.

“His method in handling Occlumency was the same as inside his classroom?” Again, it was stated as a fact, but Harry nodded regardless.

Malfoy closed his eyes briefly. “Potter, what do you know about Occlumency?”

The question had Harry huffing a little as he cocked his head to the side. “Occlumency is a skill used to protect the mind from Legilimency.”

Malfoy conceded this with a nod. “What else?”

The question had Harry furrowing his brows. “Is there anything else?”

By the exasperation on Malfoy’s face, Harry knew he answered incorrectly.

“Potter, have you ever fought someone else’s magic internally? Foreign or unwelcome?”

Quite a few bad memories floated up—his first instinct was to think of Voldemort’s attacks, the Horcruxes, and even the possession attempt during his fifth year. “Yes.”

Malfoy hummed thoughtfully. “What was it like when the magic entered you or your awareness?”

Harry wasn’t sure where Malfoy was taking this, but could tell that there was some kind of point somewhere. He thought long and hard, trying to recall what it all  _felt_ like.

“Invasion. I felt like I was being invaded. Their magic was harsh, bitter and very clearly not my own.” Voldemort’s presence had been unwelcome and easily detected.

When Malfoy arched an expectant brow, Harry let out a huff of frustration. “But what does that have to do with Occlumency?”

Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Take the Imperius curse for example. One must have intent when casting the spell. If the intent behind the spell isn’t there, then the victim won’t do one’s bidding.” Harry nodded, knowing this already.

“The Imperius curse invades someone’s mind and makes everything else disappear. It makes the victim susceptible to anything that the caster wishes.” Malfoy paused, allowing Harry the time to recall what it felt like the few times he was on the receiving end of the spell. A floating sensation had been what stood out to him the most—a lack of responsibility and the desire to  _want_ to do the other person’s bidding.

“That right there is a form of Legilimency,” Malfoy informed him seriously, eyes watching Harry intently. 

Harry blinked rapidly at Malfoy before he gestured for an explanation.

“Legilimency navigates many complex layers of someone’s mind, depending on the skill level of the person involved, it can find  _any_ secret in just a few seconds. It can crack open years of repressed feelings, emotions or even dreams. Legilimency can leave a victim open, vulnerable and completely bare.” Every word Malfoy spoke had Harry feeling uncomfortable. He already knew this, this was  _why_ he hated Occlumency, because Legilimency played such an important part in the lessons.

“But it can also manifest in subtler ways. Legilimency doesn’t  _have_ to be used in a straightforward manner. When I compare it to the Imperius curse, I am not implying that the curse could somehow see into the victim’s mind as normal Legilimency can.  _But_ the ability to control the will of another being  _is_ a byproduct of Legilimency. An unprotected mind is susceptible to all kinds of other magic.”

Harry’s brows furrowed as he let the new information sink in. “So, the Imperius curse is a spell that has its own classification, but also showcases a different kind of Legilimency?”

Malfoy nodded once. “Occlumency can prevent someone from being susceptible to the Imperius curse—and  _many_ others.”

That had Harry shaking his head a few times. “But I’ve always had an easier time throwing off the Imperius curse. Even when I was first introduced to it. If I can shake that off, why could I never get Occlumency?”

At first, Harry wondered if he was just not understanding, but his question had a small satisfied smirk forming on Malfoy’s face.

“Because it’s a different kind of Legilimency. The Imperius curse isn’t as direct or straightforward. The way it enters the mind is different than Legilimency and far subtler. Throwing off the curse  _is_ similar, but not an absolute. It is entirely possible to be good at one and not the other.”

It wasn’t until Harry slumped in defeat that Malfoy let out a small chuckle. “I’m not implying that you  _can’t_ learn both. Just showing you why it’s possible that it doesn’t automatically click.”

Harry sighed heavily. “If I can understand Occlumency, then I could withstand more curses?”

“Oh, yes,” Malfoy breathed, long hair moving with the motion of his nodding head. “Learning to protect the mind has advantages far greater than just Legilimency.”

If he hadn’t already been forced to learn Occlumency, that alone would have really sold him on it. Harry prided himself on his abilities as a duelist and if Occlumency could help in any way, why wouldn’t he learn?

“Will you teach me?” Harry asked as he tried not to come off as too pleading. 

Malfoy regarded him seriously for quite some time. Harry wasn’t sure what was going on in his mind, wasn’t sure what the criteria for taking on a student would be.

“No.”

Harry’s breath left him as he closed his eyes and clenched his fists. “Is it our past? I would like to think that we both have grown up since Hogwarts. I certainly don’t regard you in any kind of negative light.” Sure, Malfoy was still a little bit of a bastard, but Harry was beginning to think it was apart of Malfoy’s personality. If he hadn’t seen first hand how Malfoy teaches others and instructs the Ministry members, he might have been more wary or quick to assume—but things were different than when they were children.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “As good as that is to know, Potter, that isn’t what I meant.” The reassurance didn’t help anything, only made anger start to build up.

“Then  _why_?” Harry couldn’t keep his upset out of his tone. Was it something petty? What could be the issue?

“Do you understand the concept of consent?”

The question threw Harry for a loop—he blinked rapidly, not understanding where this was going in the slightest.

“Sexual consent?”

Malfoy smirked before glancing away. “That is one type of consent, sure, but consent is more than just sexual.”

Before Harry could explain that he wasn’t stupid, and of  _course_ he knew that consent was more than just sexual, Malfoy continued right on.

“Teaching Occlumency requires trust. Not just a small amount either, you would have to trust that what I may see inside your mind would  _never_  be used against you. Teaching Occlumency is personal and can be intimate. You would be allowing me into your mind and trusting that I will guide you in a conclusive and healthy manner.” Malfoy paused, biting his lip in a way that had Harry wishing it wasn’t distracting.

“The wrong teacher in Occlumency can be the difference in not understanding the craft and completely creating a disassociation with it. The mind isn’t something one should mess with. Even a positive atmosphere without the proper understanding of the subject could be devastating.”

Every word Malfoy spoke had Harry seriously regretting ever wanting to learn Occlumency.

“Can you truly consent, Potter? Can you grant me entrance into your mind? I would never willingly unearth things in a malicious intent, but I can’t promise you that those things would stay hidden from me. Legilimency was designed to break open the mind, things don’t stay a secret with all walls of security gone. Despite that Legilimency is used as a weapon to counter something such as consent, I  _refuse_ to teach that way. I cannot comfortably teach you if you don’t properly understand what you are asking of me.”

Harry let out a shaky breath as he thought it over. Saying yes and  _meaning_  it were two different things. There was a difference in dubiously learning Occlumency because he had to for his training, and actually wanting to learn for himself. If he was going to go through with this, then it would have to mean something more than just duty, or he would never see past being assigned to do it.

“And if you found things that I would rather stay hidden?” Harry asked, needing to know the answer. He was well aware he had a lot of baggage and many things that needed to be worked on, however, that didn’t mean Harry wanted anyone to  _see_ them.

Malfoy leaned forward, eyes searching Harry’s intently. “They would stay between the two of us.  _If_ I taught you, I would sign a magical contract stating that I would do nothing with the information that transpired from the lessons. But Potter, I worry that emotions would be too high. There is a lot of our past that is nothing but negative—memories that are brought forth can be at random, there is no saying it won’t be bad ones. Can you truly be calm in the face of a bad memory? Even if  _I_ were that memory?”

The question wasn’t one without merit, Harry could understand the hesitance, but he was fairly certain that it was moot. Sure, they had a past, but it was  _nothing_ compared to his actual nightmares.

“I promise you that my bad memories don’t include you.”

It was clear that Malfoy didn’t understand by the way he tilted his head back and his brows furrowed harshly. Harry wasn’t sure how to explain that a school bully paled in comparison to everything else that had gone wrong in his life. There weren’t fond memories of Malfoy, but there certainly weren’t any memories that would make him overly angry or emotional. He had long ago put things behind him—he had to, especially when harsher issues needed to be coped with.

“What you have to understand is that my bad memories are the war, deaths and the people that were lost early on,” Harry whispered, eyes falling to the desk. “My bad memories are of a man so cruel that common sense had evaporated in his actions. My bad memories are the nightmares that I can’t seem to shake. My bad memories aren’t of you, Malfoy.”

Malfoy let out a shaky breath, the sound causing Harry to look up. “I wish I could say the same.”

Harry brows knitted before he  _understood_. He may have been able to look past their school years, but it would seem that Malfoy hadn’t, at least not fully. Although, Malfoy had never tried to kill him. That  _would_  be a strong memory.

When Harry opened his mouth, unsure of what to say, Malfoy held up a hand.

“I don’t want an apology or a fumbled excuse, not when my own actions were inexcusable.” Malfoy ran his fingers through the ends of his hair. “I have done awful things in my life, and at some point justice catches up.”

Harry briefly wondered if Malfoy was talking about the short imprisonment the Wizengamot had sentenced Malfoy to after the war.

“I was plotting murder at sixteen. If justice came in the form of an unintentional curse, then so be it.”

Horror filled Harry as he shook his head rapidly. “No. That’s not what that was. I was a stupid teenager who used a curse without knowing what it did. That’s on  _me_ , Malfoy, not you. I almost killed you. That day was horrible for me, but I can’t imagine what it would have been like for you.” Perhaps he had spoken too soon. Maybe that memory  _was_ one of Harry’s bad ones.

“I almost killed other students—one of them being your best friend—whether it had been intentional or not,” Malfoy argued, eyes pleading for Harry to understand. “Regardless of whether you meant to harm me, it was still justice in a way. It led to an awakening. What I was doing was wrong and that was the first time in my life that my actions led to consequences.”

Harry, not in complete agreement, but also not fully realizing whatever it was that Malfoy was trying to tell him. “Are you saying no for me, or because of you?”

The question had Malfoy biting his lip for a moment. “Originally, it was for you. But of course, you have looked past our old issues. I think I am saying no for me. My kind of teaching is something that goes in depth. You would have access to my mind during certain lessons. I don’t know what it would be like, should one of my memories come forward.”

Harry looked at Malfoy closely, taking in the uncomfortable aura and the way his shoulders were tense. “If you aren’t comfortable with this, then I won’t ask you to teach me.” He whispered, realizing just how important consent was when it came to Occlumency. “This whole time I thought that it would be me that would be violated when it came to the Legilimency portions of the lessons—but I never stopped to think of what it would be like for the person doing the charms either.”

Malfoy cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing in thought. “I would never violate your mind, Potter. Sure, some memories may  _feel_ like that, but we would be actively keeping your mind protected. Every memory that floats up is a fraction compared to what doesn’t come forward. Occlumency, even performed poorly, will keep most of your mind protected. Someone just starting, with zero experience, can still protect part of their mind. What's shown is nothing compared to what’s under the surface.”

That had Harry pausing, mind blanking for a moment. “So, you are saying that even at my worst, my attempts at Occlumency were still working? I was still protecting my mind?”

Malfoy nodded once. “Whatever memories broke through any shields with Snape, were a small number in comparison to what you  _did_ keep locked away.”

Harry blinked rapidly. “What shields?”

There was an almost disbelieving silence that settled around them. “He never taught you how to shield your mind?”

“Is that the same thing as clearing your mind?”  _That_ was a term Harry would never forget. Snape said it enough anyway—never bother telling him  _how_ to clear his mind.

“Is that—” Malfoy cut himself off, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Merlin, this is worse than I thought.”

Before Harry could take offense to that, Malfoy continued.

“Mental shields are metaphorical in a way, although they aren’t tangible in the physical sense of the word, they are something that is taught to protect the mind. A shield is a tool that ensures your mind has an extra safeguard.”

That was certainly something Snape never taught him.

Malfoy regarded Harry intently, almost to the point of it being uncomfortable. “Potter, I have several colleagues that are skilled in Occlumency.”

Harry bit his lip to keep from voicing his thoughts. He didn’t know Malfoy’s colleagues. Didn’t want to learn from them, not when Malfoy seemed to understand how important this was.

“But with a past Occlumency teacher that was incompetent, I fear that more damage was done than actual learning. I do not trust your lessons with someone else, I will teach you.”

Despite the relief bubbling up, Harry couldn’t help but shake his head. “But you had your reservations. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable should something come up.”

One corner of Malfoy’s lips quirked up. “Your concern is appreciated, but I will be alright. I have faced worse than ghosts from the past.”

That didn’t exactly make Harry feel better.  

 “I would like you to think this over, Potter,” Malfoy continued, eyes boring into his own. “Go over everything we have talked about, and  _really_ think about whether you want me to teach you. Should you feel that this is something you aren’t comfortable with, then I will strive to find you another teacher. It will be difficult, but not impossible.”

Harry appreciated that Malfoy was taking this seriously. He already knew what his decision would be, but thinking it over wouldn’t hurt anything. “Alright.”

Malfoy nodded once before gesturing towards the door in a dismissal. “Your decision will be required tomorrow, whenever you are free.”

One last look towards Malfoy as Harry paused at the door had him steeling his resolve. Malfoy would be a good teacher. He wasn’t sure what was driving that insight, whether it was fanciful wishes or his instinct. Either way, Harry was glad that Newman had suggested Malfoy.

* * *

 

 Harry took a deep breath as he stopped in front Malfoy’s office door. It was a few minutes before noon, he had wanted to keep the time frame the same.

A tentative fist raised, warring with the finality that was inside Harry’s mind. Part of him was at a firm decision, but there were still some concerns, ones that he didn’t think would ever truly go away.

“I can do this,” Harry whispered to himself, eyes closing as he took another deep breath, channeling calming methods and hoping that his heart rate would return to a healthy beat.

 With a firm resolve and a decision in mind, Harry knocked on the door. It opened quickly, as if Malfoy had been waiting for him.

Harry was surprised to see the office much cleaner than it was yesterday, part of him was a little disappointed in that. Being in a confined space that was  _too_ clean reminded him of the Dursleys. There was a faint urge to ask for the mess back, but it wasn’t his place.

Malfoy was sitting on the edge of his desk, hair loose to his waist, first three buttons of a silk shirt undone, no tie in sight and black trousers that appeared to be too tight to be comfortable. Overall, the image was distracting—this would be something he would have to actively not think about. Especially if there was a chance Malfoy would see it in his mind.

A pale hand gestured for Harry to sit, and he took it gratefully, not exactly content being the only one standing. “Before I tell you my answer, are you  _sure_ you would be okay with teaching me?”

An almost disbelieving noise escaped Malfoy. “I shouldn’t be surprised at how selfless you are, but I am—every time.”

Harry didn’t think there was anything selfless about being concerned about someone else’s well-being, so he chose to shrug in reply.

“Potter, I assure you, should you wish to learn Occlumency from me, I will be alright.”

With the assurance ringing in his mind, Harry took a breath before nodding emphatically. “I want you to be my teacher.”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes, grey irises boring into Harry’s before he accepted the answer with no outward display of emotion. 

“Today we are just starting out small. I’m going to teach you a technique and that will be all.”

Harry was rather glad that they weren’t immediately jumping into it. Talking about the mechanics actually had ease settling inside him. This was something he had wished Snape had done.

“First thing we will go over will be clearing your mind.” Harry winced internally, not really liking that. His past experiences with that was a colossal joke.

“Clearing your mind  _is_ a good tactic,” Malfoy sent him a wink and Harry couldn’t properly compute that—his mind might have shut down for a moment—because  _what_? “Snape was right about that, because you cannot protect a chaotic mind. Once you clear your mind of all thoughts, emotions, and dreams, it becomes much more refined in what you can defend.”

Malfoy leaned forward, his hair falling forward. There was an aura of enjoyment in his eyes, and Harry realized that Malfoy enjoyed teaching.

“If you have cleared your mind properly, you will become relaxed, which kickstarts the proper structure when handling Occlumency. You don’t  _have_ to clear your mind at all, but it helps.” Malfoy lifted a finger and placed it on his chin, as if he was contemplating his own answer.

“If one were to try shielding from Legilimency without clearing their mind, their brain would be too active. It’s easier to control a simple breeze than a raging storm. How can you protect your mind, if  _all_ your thoughts are right there for the taking?”

 _Oh._ Harry blinked rapidly as what Snape had tried to teach him finally made a little more sense. It was easier said than done though. Being told to clear your mind, but never being taught how to do so was what had been the problem all along.

“But  _how_ do I do that? How do I clear my mind?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes at the way Harry interrupted him. “Close your eyes.” The demand was easy to follow, Harry trusted Malfoy… to an extent.

As soon as Harry closed his eyes, he tried to keep his hands relaxed and not allow a missing sense to make him feel vulnerable.

“Don’t regulate or change your breathing, just allow your body to behave as it normally would.” Drawing attention to his breathing had Harry trying not to change anything, it was harder than he thought it would be.

“I want you to allow whatever thoughts that are in your mind to just exist for the moment. When they filter into your subconscious, I need you to register them, but not do anything to actively change or deny them.”

Harry’s brows furrowed before he forced himself to relax again. “What do you mean?”

There was patience in Malfoy’s tone when he next spoke, and that alone had Harry confident that he had the right teacher.  

“For example; if a thought for what you will have for dinner should pop up, I want you to acknowledge the thought and let it filter out on its own. Don’t try and tell yourself  _not_ to think of something. That will only frustrate you should your mind think of something else. Just allow your thoughts to come and go as they please.”

Harry wasn’t entirely sure how allowing his thoughts to continue would clear his mind. That seemed counterproductive to him. Despite not understanding fully, he listened to Malfoy and let his mind do whatever it wanted.

With his eyes closed, and his breathing steady, Harry’s shoulders relaxed, and a calm sensation settled around him. The first few minutes that passed were his own confusion at what was happening, but the longer the silence stretched, he was able to move past that as his mind wandered.

The confusion left and in its place came the normalcy of his day to day routine. His assigned tasks from the Auror Program entered his mind, reminding him of the things he still needed to accomplish. Once that left his psyche, thoughts on what he needed to clean at home filtered through and then the list of chores that he needed to finish before the upcoming weekend arrived.

“As each thought you concede and let leave, do you notice anything different?” Malfoy’s voice surprisingly didn’t jar Harry, but he did feel his heart rate speed up at the sudden break in silence.

With each acknowledged thought, Harry began to notice a method appearing. “Is there supposed to be a pattern?” The longer his thoughts were examined and let go, Harry realized that they were all centered around things he perceived needed to be done.

Malfoy let out a pleased sound, and Harry had to fight the urge to preen at the noise.

“People like to assume that the mind only gives clues subconsciously or subliminally, and that is untrue. When one is prepared to acknowledge the mind, a lot becomes clear. So, yes, there is supposed to be a pattern, and you picking up on it shows that you are aware of yourself in advanced fashions.”

Harry was fascinated with how well Malfoy not only understood Occlumency but also the mind as well. It went beyond just simple knowledge.

“It matters naught what your mind is thinking of. What is important is that you are  _aware_  of the pattern. Your psyche is focused on it for a reason. By you acknowledging the message and then letting it leave, you are allowing your mind to clear on its own.”

Harry hummed curiously. “But with each thought that leaves, a new one takes its place.”

“Yes,” Malfoy acknowledged. “But that will dwindle the longer you listen to your thoughts. If your mind feels listened to, it becomes clearer as time passes. Why do you think jumbled thoughts happen in the first place? Your mind works in overdrive when it doesn’t feel listened to. An abundance of musings with no chance of reprieve is the root of the problem. You can’t think clearly if you aren’t acknowledging the left-over thoughts.”

Huh. “That would mean this method would work for more than just Occlumency,” Harry pointed out, realizing that this tactic could be used for any time he needed to calm down, or even to think over something when stressed.

“A lot of things have many uses. Clearing the mind will help in  _many_ circumstances.”

Harry was tempted to ask Malfoy to tell him more, but he didn’t want to get away from the lesson. It was interesting to note that Malfoy would make a great conversationalist outside of teaching.

“Typically, I would have you continue clearing your mind, but the first time will always take the longest. It’s not something you can master right away. This is something I am going to assign you to do a few times a day until our lessons end.”

Harry opened his eyes, blinking away the light before he narrowed in on Malfoy. “Is it already the end of the lesson?”

“Yes, I wanted the first one to be relatively simple. If I supply you with too many theories or tactics, it can be overwhelming. Occlumency is already difficult upon the first approach, anything to make it easier on you is preferable.”

Harry kind of wished the lesson would go on longer. He felt like he was finally understanding how Occlumency was going to work. “When should I come back for our next lesson?”

“One week.” Malfoy shuffled some papers on his desk, eyes already focused on a different task. “That should give you enough time to get a base feel for clearing the mind. If you practice a few times a day, then by our next lesson, it will make things easier to move forward.”

Clearing the mind here hadn’t been too bad. Harry wasn’t exactly looking forward to practicing it, but it did at least make sense. He stood up and hesitated before extending his hand. “Thank you, it was a good lesson.”

Malfoy looked down at Harry’s hand far longer than normal and he had a slight flashback to when the position had been reversed.

Right before Harry could pull his hand back, Malfoy extended his own slowly before grabbing hold of his hand firmly.

“You weren’t awful, Potter. I'll owl you the contract.”

Harry let out a surprised laugh before he shook his head. “You weren’t a git, Malfoy. Looks like we both can be surprising.”

The barely-there smile Malfoy sent him stuck with Harry long after he left the Ministry.

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

As Harry approached Malfoy’s office, he was confident that he had done his assignment to the best of his ability. Not only had he practiced clearing his mind every day, but he also had Hermione look over the contract and when she deemed it sound, he signed it and sent it back to Malfoy. 

When the door swung open before Harry could raise a hand, he looked around the office in suspicion. Malfoy was sitting behind his desk, eyes already looking towards Harry.          

“Do enter,” Malfoy drawled, a slow smirk forming. “We don’t have all day.”

Harry rolled his eyes as he shut the door. A quick look around the room showed that it was slightly messier than their last session, but not as messy as the first time. Progress.

Malfoy gestured for Harry to sit down. “I want you to clear your mind.”

Harry breathed in evenly as his mind slowly filled and then emptied. It was interesting to see how calm he was now that he began clearing his mind a few times a day daily. It took several days to be able to successfully clear his mind. It took far longer than he thought it would, but the sense of accomplishment from actually succeeding was worth it. It was an almost meditative state that he sunk into when clearing his mind.

Time was illusion whenever Harry cleared his mind. Focusing on the time or how long it would take always pulled him out of the trance. It was better to forget everything else and concentrate on the task at hand.

Harry wasn’t sure how long he sat there. His day had been a little hectic, so it took some time for his thoughts to mellow out. When there was nothing but a calming emptiness, Harry opened his eyes.

Malfoy had his head rested on the soles of his palms and there was an undecipherable expression on his face. “Well done.”

Praise was something Harry was beginning to think he craved. At least in a positive setting such as this. He had to bite his lip to stop a ridiculous grin from appearing. Malfoy’s eyes moved briefly to watch his lip before he shook his head and straightened up.

“Another week or two of practice and you might just master that.”

Pride bubbled up inside of Harry, pleased that he was doing well. His worries over Occlumency were slowly trickling away.

Harry watched Malfoy flick his wand and transfigure a chair out of a spare piece of parchment.

“Today’s lesson is going to be a little different,” He paused to stand up and shake out his long hair.

It wasn’t until he positioned the chair in front of Harry and sat down that he continued. “With you having an unreliable teacher in the past, I have to do things a little differently than I normally would. Before I can show you a proper shield, I need to make sure that you are fully aware of your senses beforehand. It can get dangerous otherwise.”

“My senses?” Harry interrupted in bewilderment. “I am aware of my senses.” He had to be when learning to be an Auror.

Malfoy arched a brow. “We will find out then.”

There was a challenge lurking in Malfoy’s eyes, and Harry found the old competitive urge to win that they used to have as children rather fun.

“Close your eyes,” Malfoy demanded firmly.

It was on the tip of his tongue to sass him back, but now wasn’t the time. Harry just sighed in annoyance, choosing to let that be his answer.

“What can you see?”

Harry’s brows furrowed completely. Was Malfoy being serious? “The inside of my eyelids. What do you mean what can I see?” Perhaps it was the right time to sass after all.

Malfoy chuckled before shoving Harry’s shoulder. “No, you prat. I didn’t mean with your eyes. I mean with one of your senses gone, your others should work in a slightly elevated manner. I want you to see with your other senses.”

That sounded completely useless to Harry, but he wasn’t the expert in Occlumency. Despite the urge to question everything, Harry settled into the chair comfortably and tried to use his other senses.

His common rationality told him that Malfoy was still sitting right before him, no noise had alerted him to any movement, and no brush of air suggested anything had changed. With something to focus on, Harry picked a sense at random to try and ‘see’ with.

Hearing. Harry tilted his head as he focused his attention to his ears. Without sight to leave visual context clues, he had to deduce his surroundings in a different way. At first, there was nothing but the silence of the room and the slight ticking of a clock in the distance. Right before he was to give up, an odd buzzing registered.  

Harry leaned forward, belatedly realizing he was getting dangerously close to Malfoy. With the small movement, the noise hadn’t shifted, but his perception of it increased. “It’s coming from you.”

“Vague,” Malfoy whispered, amusement coloring his tone. “What’s coming from me?”

Good question. Answering with only a first guess wasn’t the smartest idea. Harry bit his lip as he tried to figure out what exactly it was that he could hear. There was a slight inhale and exhale that was clearly Malfoy breathing, but that wasn’t the noise. He was able to distinguish between sounds that were far away and had no correlation to the buzzing. If it wasn’t a physical sound related to Malfoy’s body, then what else could make noise?  

“Magic.” The conclusion was a gut instinct. Harry couldn’t figure out any other explanation. “I think I can hear your magic.”

“Very good.” The praise went straight to Harry’s cheeks as he felt them heat. An amused noise let him know that Malfoy was aware of this. Great.

“What does my hearing have to do with Occlumency?” Harry was sure Malfoy was rolling his eyes, that didn’t seem out of the question.

“Patience, Potter. I know it’s something you don’t have, but I need you to humor me.”

Harry couldn’t stop the grin from forming if he tried. “I will have you know that I have patience.”

A disbelieving snort could be heard, and it somehow still sounded elegant. Harry wasn’t sure how the prat managed that.

“Maybe not a lot of patience, but it’s definitely in my vocabulary,” Harry continued, ignoring the probability that Malfoy was arching his brows.

“Prove it to me then.”

Harry sighed heavily. “Alright. Continue all mighty teacher.” A frustrated huff could be heard, but Harry was amused by it.

“You can hear my magic, something you would’ve had a harder time doing with your eyes open. I want you to focus on my magic, but now with a different perspective. Use your other senses.”

Having something to focus on made it easier. Harry knew the magic was there, the presence making itself known. He lifted a hand to hold it near Malfoy’s body. The action wasn’t something he was going to use to physically touch Malfoy, that wasn’t the point of the lesson—one can’t tangibly touch magic in this kind of setting anyway. But how does one use touch without actually feeling anything?

If he could sense Malfoy’s magic, that meant it was reciprocal. Harry outwardly pulsed his magic—letting that be what touched Malfoy instead.

Malfoy gasped when their magic made contact. Harry didn’t want to combine their energy, that wouldn’t be wise. He pulled himself up, his retreating magic settling down. A small smile formed when he felt Malfoy’s magic follow, as if chasing Harry’s.

This time, it was easier to  _feel_ Malfoy’s magic. It was nothing like listening to it. This viewpoint changed everything. Hearing it showed him where it was, but feeling it revealed the depths of the magic, something that he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been singling out one sense over the others.

“It’s…” Harry trailed off, uncertain if there were right descriptors. The touch of the magic wasn’t warm in a physical sense, but if Harry allowed himself to dig deeper, he knew that it could potentially encase him as heat would do.

“Different,” Harry concluded, not allowing himself the chance to second guess his description. It  _was_ different—but in a way that he had never experienced before.

“Different is alright,” Malfoy informed him a little breathlessly. “I’m going to pull my magic back.”

Harry almost wanted to deny this, wanted to tell Malfoy not to, but he knew it was wise. Magic shared in a close intimate setting wasn’t something that should be done. Not under this kind of circumstance.

When Harry could feel the hum of Malfoy’s magic, but not so powerfully, he stopped using that sense—not wanting to immerse himself too much.

“Go on,” Malfoy ordered, voice strong but wavering slightly. Harry wasn’t sure what was the cause, but he didn’t want to get distracted by thinking about it.

Harry inhaled deeply, allowing smell to be his next sense. A subtle tart aroma registered, and it was soothing enough that he wanted to lean forward and investigate. “Are you wearing cologne?”

“No, perfume and cologne are something wizards adopted after muggles. Do you realize just what kind of animal secretions, excretions and digestions are in such scents? I make my own soap and that’s enough for me.”

That had Harry flabbergasted for a moment. He wasn’t aware of that and would have to come back to that at a later date.

Harry tried to smell other scents, but Malfoy’s fragrance was always the first thing that registered. “Can I use my magic to heighten my sense of smell?” Getting anywhere would require more than this.

A hum was the response before Malfoy spoke up, “If it will help, go ahead.” The tone suggested that it wasn’t necessary, which had Harry wishing he could roll his eyes.

Auror Training  _had_ gone over sensory skills, just not in the way Malfoy was teaching him. Sleuth skills require one to use not only what was taught, but the things around them. In any given situation, an Auror’s senses are a necessity.

Harry allowed his magic to thrum under the surface and tingle in his fingers. He had to pull back slightly, his touch wasn’t what was needed. Usually, he wouldn’t bother using one sense over the other this way, but this was different.

The thrum centered around his nostrils, heightening his awareness. Harry took a deep breath, allowing his magic to filter out Malfoy’s smell.

It was difficult getting the proper saturation of magic. The ratio had to be just right, otherwise he would overload his senses completely. Parchment, inked pages, dust and even trash assaulted his nostrils. None of that was what he was after—Harry had to put extra magic into filtering those out.

Harry was beginning to become frustrated when nothing was coming forward. How was he supposed to use smell to sense Malfoy’s magic? He was tempted to reach out once again with touch, but that wasn’t what he was supposed to do.

“Don’t overcomplicate it,” Malfoy instructed patiently. “You are being too literal.”

What? Harry sighed in frustration. None of this made sense to begin with. The explanation for  _why_ his senses were needed, better be worth all the effort. He recalled Malfoy’s tone when asked to use his magic. The reaction was an indicator that perhaps he didn’t need to heighten anything.

Harry retracted his magic completely, the smell of Malfoy being the only aroma he could detect. If he wasn’t supposed to complicate it, then simplicity would be the way to go—Occam’s razor. Malfoy had told him he was being too literal. But how loose can one be when dealing in smell?

If Harry couldn’t smell anything, and heightening his senses hadn’t detected anything, then the only logical deduction was that there was nothing to smell. Perhaps Malfoy’s magic was odorless.   

“How can I smell what isn’t there?” Was that a paradox? He  _knew_ Malfoy’s magic was there, had felt it and listened to it. So, how was he supposed to smell something that was invisible to his nose?

“Smell is one of the most idiosyncratic of our senses. There are certain smells that differ when it comes to awareness in every person. You smell my soap strongly, but I do not. That is a smell that I have become accustomed to and therefore doesn’t register profusely.”

Harry nodded, his mind already thinking that over. “Then you are implying that my awareness of your magic would mean I am accustomed to it?” That didn’t exactly make sense. One lesson shouldn’t have made his sense of smell that comfortable with Malfoy’s magic—especially since he wasn’t used to it.

“No,” Malfoy contradicted, tone drawling in a way that had Harry remembering the boy he used to be. “I am telling you that your awareness of magic in general is the problem. Magic has always had a smell. You are accustomed to it, because of your own magic. Years of inhaling your own smell have desensitized you.”

Harry breathed out heavily. “How do I get past that if I am to use my sense of smell?”

“You’re aware of it now. That alone should help. If you need to, I can produce an odor neutralizer.”

The offer had Harry agreeing instantly. He didn’t want to decline and then need it later on.

The rich pungent smell of coffee assaulted his sinuses. Before Harry could lean away from the overpowering smell, it was quickly gone. The stark change had him reeling for a moment.

Harry’s forehead wrinkled when he blocked out the aroma of Malfoy’s natural smell. As soon as the soothing soap disappeared, he was able to detect something else.

At first, Harry wasn’t sure if it was his magic or Malfoy’s that he was detecting. It was powerful. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent, hoping to dissect it. There was an almost bitter tang to the air. The power to the magic was easily detectable, something strong and a force to be reckoned with.

Harry sat up straighter when his mind flashed back to the few times he had performed magic before really understanding the depths to it. His younger years fighting horcruxes floated forward. The smell, was him. This was his magic.

“Can you produce the coffee again?” His own smell was overpowering and to move past it, Harry would need a fresh start.

The coffee grounds disappeared as quickly as they had come. Now that Harry knew what scent was his own magic, it was clear which was Malfoy’s.

Where his own scent had been bitter, Malfoy’s was sharp. There was an almost artificial essence to the magic. Harry wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. Power radiated outward, and he marveled at that. It was strange to think that a sense of smell would project power and not touch.

“You’re powerful,” Harry whispered, trying to discern the differences in his power compared to Malfoy’s.

Malfoy chuckled, a brief smell of his soap signifying that Malfoy had shifted some. “Not dark?”

The question was posed as if it was just simple curiosity, but Harry could detect the undercurrent of  _something_  behind the tone.

Dark. Harry tended to associate the word to experiences. He remembered the way Voldemort felt when he had invaded Harry’s body, could recall the energy of the Horcruxes—especially the diary and what it had felt like to be in the memory. That was dark.

“Dark,” whispered Harry, grateful that his eyes were closed. “That’s not a classification I like. It’s a label used by people who don’t understand the meaning of the word. It’s a generalization thrust upon people who are different.” He had been accused a few times himself of being a dark wizard. That parseltongue was dark and dangerous, that killing Voldemort showed he held darkness inside of him.

“Magic is magic. It’s the political aspect that changes how people perceive others. It’s what you do with your magic that defines who you are—not the magic itself,” Harry finished, tempted to peek one eye open to see Malfoy’s face, but chose not to.

When Malfoy let out a shaky breath, Harry felt an urge to comfort him. He knew that Malfoy had been told all his life that he was dark, but it was his beliefs and the things that had been done  _with_ his magic that had earned that title. But that didn’t mean Malfoy was dark underneath it all, it didn’t change the fact that his magic itself wasn’t dark.

Malfoy had painstakingly strived to be better than who he had once been. Harry  _knew_ this, knew that political viewpoints can change. Malfoy had changed, and that was something internal, something separate from his magic.

“You aren’t dark.” Harry knew this instinctively and subjectively.

“I’m not light either,” Malfoy whispered, voice stilted as if the admission had cost him.

A small smile tugged at Harry’s lips. “And that’s okay. You don’t have to be labeled in any capacity to belong in society. Whatever you are is enough.”

Silence settled around them and it was a little stifling, but not uncomfortably so. Harry wasn’t sure what to say to break the tranquility.

Malfoy took a deep breath, far less shaky than before, but not quite firm either.

“Let’s continue, we have gone away from the subject at hand.” The demand had Harry shaking his head almost fondly. “Taste, that’s the final one you will do like this.”

Taste. That had Harry a little wary. How exactly was he supposed to taste Malfoy’s magic? Was that even something he should be doing?

“I don’t expect you to be able to taste anything. Taste is a sense that is rather difficult to use in a setting such as this. It entangles with your sense of smell so thoroughly that it can be hard to differentiate.”

 _Oh_. Well Malfoy shouldn’t have said that. If anything, the urge to prove Malfoy wrong was igniting a stubborn streak inside of Harry.

Before Harry wanted to implement any attempts, he chose to think about what Malfoy said. The problem with smell had originated from not paying enough attention to the clues in Malfoy’s words. This time, however, was going to be different.

What’s the difference between smell and taste? What about the two senses would make it hard to decipher?

The inhale. Harry’s first thought of was of coffee. The smell of the drink plays just as much of an important role as the taste itself. It wasn’t a stretch to think that when attempting to taste magic, it would register in the scent as well.

Theorizing wouldn’t accomplish much. Harry decided to just wing it—he took a deep breath, making sure to inhale with his mouth and not his nose.

The first few inhales were no different than breathing as he normally would. It was strange at first to breathe with an intent other than gaining oxygen. Harry’s other senses were prominent, but he wanted to do this without the additional help.

When the artificial smell wafted inward, Harry knew this would be difficult. The fragrance of Malfoy’s magic was stronger than he thought it would be. How was he supposed to dissociate the smell enough to taste it?

Typically, when tasting something, it’s ingested—but ingesting magic was a horrible idea, especially someone else’s. To a certain degree, Harry  _had_ taken part of Malfoy’s magic inside of him already with the scent. Perhaps the key was to only take a small amount and not fully consume it.

If he treated the magic as if it were a visible suspension, such as smoke would be, then it would be as if he inhaled the magic but also exhaled as well. That tactic would only retain a small portion of Malfoy’s magic.

Harry leaned forward a little reluctantly, knowing that he was invading personal space boundaries. When the thrum of Malfoy’s magic pulsed, he took a deep breath, allowing the pungent energy to enter into his lungs. Harry held the inhale, allowing the magic time to saturate before he exhaled.

His head felt lighter instantly, but it was hard to pinpoint a certain taste. Harry knew that too many breaths and it would be no different from a power overdose of magic.

On the third inhale, Harry was able to detect a subtle but robust sensation. It wasn’t until the exhale that he realized the gustation had no distinctive identifier. There wasn’t a single flavor he could equate magic to. It was just there, a presence inside of his lungs with each breath. It wasn’t as similar to smell as he originally thought. With smell, it changed from person to person. Harry wasn’t entirely sure his magic would taste different than Malfoy’s—but for now, he had no trouble being able to taste the energy.

“I don’t know how to explain it.” Harry tried not to let that frustrate him. “I can taste your magic, but more of its presence and not an actual flavor.”

Malfoy harrumphed softly. “That’s intriguing. Perhaps an experiment could be conducted? I would ask you more questions, but that will have to be a topic for another day.”

Despite how much time Harry knew had already passed, he didn’t really want the lesson to end already, but he could tell that Malfoy was going to wrap it up soon.

“Why do you think I had you close your eyes? For your senses. You didn’t  _need_ to have sight restricted in order to use one sense over the others.”

The question had Harry curious. At times, it might have been easier to use his sight to help. “I’m not sure.”

“Sight is misleading. Your eyes overlook many things and your brain can make connections for you—sometimes the wrong ones. When one relies too heavily on their sight, they forget to utilize their other senses and can actually become confused or even tricked. Just because you can see something, doesn’t mean it’s real or even tangible.”

The logic was sound. If Harry had had his eyes opened, it might have changed his perspective on Malfoy’s magic. But he couldn’t help but miss the familiarity of sight. It would be tricky to rely on his other senses more so than sight.

“Are you going to tell me what the senses have to do with Occlumency?”

Malfoy shook his head slowly, smirking when Harry let out a frustrated noise. “Not yet. I will explain it after you have practiced more. I told you last week that I don’t want to give you too much knowledge at once.”

When Harry nodded reluctantly, Malfoy continued. “I want you to keep that in mind. It’s essential to everything from here on out.” There was a pause as Malfoy made his way back towards his desk.

“Potter, you did remarkably well today.”

The praise once again had Harry fighting to show his pleasure. It wasn’t as if people never praise him, they just didn’t do it when it had really been earned. It was nice knowing that he was handling their lessons well.

“Exploring the senses can be hard to learn, but you managed better than I thought you would.”

Harry sent him a weak glare but was still pleased with the previous compliment to care.

“I want you to practice both clearing your mind and exploring your senses. I would like it if you kept the two separate—at least for now. When it comes to your senses, you need complete awareness and right now, that could be dangerous trying to clear your mind at the same time.”

The warning had Harry sitting up straighter. He didn’t think he would’ve been able to do both at once anyway. “Alright. No combining the two,” Harry paused before standing up. “Same time next week?”

Malfoy nodded with a little hum of agreement. “Yes, I will see you next week.”

It wasn’t until Harry was at the door that he stopped when Malfoy spoke up again. “Oh, and Potter? I expect you to have nearly mastered clearing your mind by then.”

The challenge was clear enough. Harry huffed a little before waving goodbye and stepping into the hallway.

   

* * *

 

 Harry didn’t even bother to pause by Malfoy’s door, it opened for him anyway. He couldn’t help but grin at the messy office. It still wasn’t quite the way it had been when Harry had first seen it. But it was getting there. Something he was looking forward to.

This time around, Harry didn’t wait for Malfoy to tell him to sit. Once he was settled in the chair, he looked up at Malfoy and grinned at the way he rolled his eyes.

“Let’s get right into it,” Malfoy told him, arms folding across his chest. “Show me what you got.”

Harry closed his eyes and let his mind begin the clearing process. Over the past week, it had become almost second nature to slip into the headspace. He had even used the tactic to calm down after a few of the older Aurors in training had gotten on his nerves.

The even breathing was almost a lull, but Harry ignored that entirely as his focus on his mind took over. The sequences of his day were surprisingly all that his mind held.

When Harry opened his eyes, he caught the surprise on Malfoy’s face and grinned smugly.

Malfoy scoffed. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

Despite that, Harry could tell that Malfoy was still proud. “Do you want me to show you my senses?”

“No,” Malfoy shook his head. “I’ve got a practical test for you.”

Test? Nothing had been mentioned about a test. Harry was a little nervous, but tried not to show it.

Before Harry could so much as nod in agreement, Malfoy waved his wand, conjuring a bowl of… pudding?

“Erm, what’s that for?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, ignoring the question completely. “Tell me what you see.”

“Pudding. I see chocolate pudding.” Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Unless you did something to it.”

“Ah, yes,” Malfoy’s lips quirked. “I poison pudding in my spare time.”

“I knew it.” Harry couldn’t make it but a few seconds before he cracked up.

It took a few minutes to regain control of himself. The amusement sparkling in Malfoy’s eyes was worth it though.

“You would have been right,” Malfoy paused. “If this was truly pudding.”

Harry leaned forward, trying to detect any kind of magic masking it’s true shape. He closed his eyes, cutting off his sight completely.

The sound of the bowl sliding towards him had Harry reaching a hand out and placing his index finger inside the fake pudding. The texture almost had him leaning away in surprise.

“It’s a liquid,” Harry exclaimed as his hand retreated and he tentatively licked the digit and opened his eyes. “It’s milk.”

“Correct,” Malfoy agreed, eyes staring intently at Harry’s finger. “What would you have done if it had been spelled to feel like pudding? Smell like pudding? Or even taste like pudding?”

Harry hummed in thought. “If you had used magic as you said, I wouldn’t have done anything, because to my senses this is would’ve been pudding.”  _That_ was a scary thought. “Do you have real pudding I can compare this to?”

Pride shown in Malfoy’s eyes, and it went straight to Harry’s heart. When a second bowl was placed in front of him, Harry closed his eyes.

The feel of both bowls felt like Malfoy’s magic. Both were conjured, both had traces of magic surrounding the immediate area. With one being fake, there  _had_ to be a difference.

“Don’t overcomplicate it,” pressed Malfoy, confidence in his tone, as if he  _knew_ Harry could do this.

Simplicity. Harry tried not to think at all, just let his instinct guide his mind. “There’s more magic surrounding the fake one.” The presence of Malfoy’s magic was at least double in depth. “The transfiguration spell required more magic than the simple conjuring incantation for the real pudding.”  

When Harry opened his eyes, he watched Malfoy smile at him. “Good job.”

Harry looked down, trying to not let the praise fluster him. “This all clearly shows that I need to be more aware of my surroundings. But are you going to  _finally_ tell me what this has to do with Occlumency?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes as he grumbled about Harry having a lack of patience. “If someone is going to try to use Legilimency, then they need to rely on more than just brute force. They will  _need_ to trick your mind, and the best way of doing so is your senses. They’ll have you seeing what isn’t there.”

Harry blinked rapidly, immediately thinking of Voldemort and the false vision of Sirius being kept at the Ministry. He had always thought it was solely their connection that was responsible. It hadn’t crossed his mind that it was a form of Legilimency  _and_ their connection. Nor was he aware that Legilimency could trick the senses.

“What of dreams? Legilimency attacking the mind while asleep?” Harry wondered as he thought back to all the dreams and nightmares he had during Voldemort’s reign. That was something he thought the connection bled through, and even after knowing it was Voldemort, it hadn’t really ever crossed his mind how much he had been fooled.

Malfoy’s brows arched. “Dreams? To attack the mind while asleep would be difficult. Once the victim reaches a certain level of unease, they wake up. If the attacker is there, what’s the point? They might as well have disposed of the victim in the first place or have waited until they were awake. The subconscious isn’t always very forthcoming.”

Harry bit his lip, not sure how much he should explain. Speaking of Voldemort was always a bad topic of conversation.

“Ah,” Malfoy hummed in interest. “You don’t mean in person. Was this a meld between you and the Dark Lord?”

“Meld?” Harry was impressed that Malfoy had picked up on it so quickly. “More of a connection, but yeah.”

Malfoy curled his fingers under his chin and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “A connection like that would strongly influence both parties. But to twist dreams, that goes past a connection. That would have been the Dark Lord using the connection to allow Legilimency to bleed through.”

That was the answer Harry anticipated. “And you think senses would play into that?”

“I  _know_ so.” Malfoy’s conviction had Harry straightening up. “Legilimency in a dream is interrupting whatever your subconscious was doing at the time and morphing it into a false image. That would have to be clouding your senses as to keep you asleep for as long as possible. Same as if a thought or projection had happened while awake.”

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Malfoy seemed to know more about this than he had anticipated.

“My father had been adamant that his plans would work. I doubt he was relying on dreams.” Malfoy shrugged once. “With the little information that you provided, I can infer a lot with subtext.”

There was a pause as Harry tried to understand how his senses could have been clouded while he was awake. That alone didn’t make sense. It wasn’t until he voiced this that Malfoy rolled his eyes.

“If the Dark Lord had a connection into your mind, and he truly could send you dreams, then it would be easy to confuse your waking thoughts as well. Were you aware of the foreign magic? Could you feel it? There is  _always_ a trace. What about your other senses? Smell, taste or even your hearing? If you  _only_ relied on your sight for whatever was being shown to you, then it would be easy to be duped. Your eyes  _lie_  to you.”

There was a twinge of regret as Harry realized he had never paused to consider any of that. The emotions and desperate urge to save Sirius  _had_ clouded everything else. But it wasn’t as if anyone had ever  _taught_ him any of this. If learning to block his mind was as important as Dumbledore and Snape had made it out to be, then  _why_ had no one ever tried to teach him this? What was the point?

“It’s not only then that your eyes lie to you. If I were to break into your mind right now, I could use your sight to completely take you over without realizing it. Your eyes are a weakness.”  

“How so?”

“When someone is trying to use Legilimency, they usually have something specific in mind. Legilimency is dangerous and not something to be used on a whim, a random attack isn't something that typically happens. Once they are inside your head, it isn't as simple as immediately finding the information. The mind is wild, chaotic and unorganized. They would have to sift through your thoughts in an attempt to find what they came for—which can result in a slew of arbitrary memories.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at that. Would that explain why when his attempts at Occlumency failed, Snape was able to see a jumble collection of his memories? From when he was a child up to his current memories at that time.  

“There is no saying how long it could take, and that is where it becomes dangerous for them. The longer they are inside your mind, the easier it is for the victim to regain control. To ensure that the victim would be sufficiently taken care of, they would use your senses against you. Distraction is a vital key when dealing with Legilimency.”

Harry hummed curiously. “And that is where my awareness will help? To recognize when they are trying to distract me? What about trying to kick them out of my mind?”

Malfoy made a noncommittal noise as he tilted his head to the side. “It’s not always the easiest thing to forcibly remove someone from your mind once they are already inside.”

Before Harry could interrupt with a remark on whether Malfoy was trying to imply that he do nothing once someone invades his mind, Malfoy continued.

“Once Occlumency fails, and it will  _always_ fail when under attack for a lengthy period of time—one can’t be on the defense forever—it is invariably wise to turn the tide on  _them_.” There was a satisfied quality to Malfoy’s tone and it amused Harry to see him so proud of his teachings.

“What do you mean?”

Malfoy sighed heavily, seemingly annoyed that Harry didn’t automatically understand.

“At this point, your Occlumency has failed, they are already in the mind, already searching your memories—your options are limited. Use the memories they are already viewing to your advantage. Cloud their senses and dupe them. They don’t  _know_ your memories like you would, they don’t know whether or not it’s real. Confuse them enough to fight back.” Malfoy paused to shake his head slowly.

“It’s far easier to overwhelm an attacker than people realize. If the victim overloads them with hundreds of memories in seconds, dozens of emotions in minutes and swarm the senses thoroughly, the attacker is fucked.”

A laugh escaped Harry at Malfoy’s language. The lesson had been professional so far, but he was rather liking the emphasis in his tone.  

“Okay,” Harry began, understanding what Malfoy was telling him. The lesson on senses held a bigger impact on Occlumency and Legilimency than he ever thought they would. “This is great and really helpful  _after the fact_. I can use all of this if my Occlumency fails. But what about before? How am I to protect myself  _before_ they break open my mind?” That is what he thought true Occlumency was to begin with.

"Occlumency is a preventative measure to help protect against Legilimency. It's something that can be done instantly and on the spot, but that's also rather difficult. If one knows Legilimency is about to be performed on them, then it becomes easier. But the chances of having that knowledge beforehand is slim." Malfoy scrunched up his nose, and Harry had to look away at that.

"It is possible to actively use Occlumency for extended lengths throughout the day, but that is draining on not only your magic but the mind as well. Which is why an emphasis on the senses is so important. Because no matter how well one is at Occlumency, it can't be used indefinitely."

 Harry wasn't really fond of the idea that Occlumency might not hold up. There had been such a significance for him to learn it in his youth—the way it had been presented all those years ago as an absolute, that it would solve the problem. But now he was finding out that it was actually the opposite? That frustrated him.

"In our first lesson, I mentioned shields in passing. This is a tactic used to heighten Occlumency and make it possible to fortify the mind. Everyone is different, and that certainly applies to their shields. I, personally, go with simplicity, because my strengths lie with using my senses while the Legilimens is inside my mind. I can do a stronger shield that is, for the most part, impenetrable, but it drains me. You will learn on your own what works for you." Malfoy was calm and confident, as if he knew that Harry would be able to catch onto Occlumency quickly.

"Are shields easy to learn?" Harry wondered curiously. His mind was already reeling with everything else he had learned.

Malfoy hummed. "Depends on the classification and which direction one goes when creating their shield. I won't teach you today how to perform or conjure a mental shield. A demonstration is going to be today’s lesson."

Demonstration? Harry was intrigued. He had learned so much from Malfoy already, something he had known would happen, but the depth to the lessons surprised him.     

"Strength is vital when it comes to a shield, if a mental barrier has recognizable cracks or fissures, then it will fall apart quite easily. To create a sturdy shield, you need a powerful memory."

Harry arched both his brows, not sure he looked as elegant as Malfoy since the man could pull off one brow. "Do you mean like a patronus?"

Malfoy's mouth lifted up thoughtfully. "That's not a bad comparison, Potter. The difference would be in the type of memory. A patronus requires a happy but strong memory. A mental shield requires just a compellingly powerful memory."

"How is a memory going to create a shield?" With a patronus, the memory was what fueled the spell into creating it. With Occlumency, there is no spell.

"You are dealing with the mind," Malfoy drawled patiently. "There is nothing more powerful than your own memories. If someone is breaking through your mind, your memories are akin to your fight or flight reflexes. It's instinctive to protect yourself, and your memories  _are_  your shield."

It was fascinating to think that memories are what a Legilimens would be after in the first place, and those same memories are the defense that would stop them in the end. But... "Isn't that counterproductive? Putting all of your eggs in one basket?"

Malfoy's brows knitted briefly. "Muggles have the strangest sayings." Harry grinned, but chose not to say anything. "It's less of a strategic matter, and more of the only thing one can do. Besides your senses, the mind is vulnerable. There isn't a lot that can be done to protect it. Yes, using memories to ward someone from gaining those memories might not make a whole lot of sense. But it's the only option available."

"Alright.” Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "What exactly qualifies as powerful?"  

"Powerful is a relative term. Brute strength is powerful, subtle effectiveness can be powerful, and even silent sleuthing can be powerful. It's what you yourself can attribute strength as." When Harry opened his mouth to ask for some clarity, Malfoy held up his hand. "We can get into that during our next lesson. Right now, I want to begin the demonstration."

"How exactly are you going to show me a proper mental shield?"

Malfoy arched a brow—something Harry wished he wouldn't. It wasn't fair to those whose brows didn't cooperate.

"You are going to use Legilimency on me."

A baffled noise escaped Harry's mouth, unsure if what he had heard was real. "Why?" The aghast quality his tone was underplayed, not showing how truly not okay he was with the suggestion.

"How can I expect you to know what a mental shield is supposed to look like if you never see one in action? Theory is nice, but not practical. If I just used Legilimency on you repeatedly and hoped that you got it, that would be very damaging to your mind. I'm not willing to allow your mind to become a casualty just to ensure that you understand Occlumency."

That was another thing Harry wished Snape had done. If Snape had shown him what he was supposed to do instead of telling him, things could have gone so differently.

"I need you to be aware of what a proper shield not only looks like, but what it feels, sounds, smells and tastes like. Your senses are going to be vital when handling a mental shield. Can you tell me why that might be?"

Harry rolled his eyes, not needing to think about the answer. "Because my sight will lie to me." Malfoy had been preaching that enough for it to stick. "Does that mean your mental shield won't be what it first looks like?"

When a mischievous look entered Malfoy's eyes, Harry knew he would have to be hyperaware of his surroundings. It was a good tactic though—duping an attacker with the senses right from the get-go was smart. 

Malfoy pulled out a pensive and pulled out three memories before making a show of placing his wand on the desk away from his hands. "I'm ready whenever you are, Potter."

Harry bit his lip before looking down at his wand. He wasn't sure he could do this. Breaking into someone's mind wasn't something he wanted to do. This wasn't a criminal that he needed information from, this wasn't in self-defense, this wasn't a reflex. He would be entering Malfoy's mind on purpose. His mind couldn't help but flashback to Snape's lessons. It had been uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of Legilimency.

"I don't know if I can do this," Harry whispered, mind recalling the way Snape sneered at his memories, remembering the way each resurfaced memory had made him feel cracked open. He didn't want to do that to someone else. Feeling vulnerable is one thing, but to do that to another person didn’t sit well with him.

Rustling could be heard in the distance, but Harry wasn't paying it any notice. It wasn't until a familiar fragrance reached his nose that he realized Malfoy was in front of him.

“Hey," whispered Malfoy, far softer than Harry thought he would experience. "Look at me."

Harry peered up through his lashes—his heart skipping when concern marred Malfoy's features.

"Can I touch you?" Malfoy asked as he hesitantly hovered one hand over Harry's.

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to talk. It wasn't until a surprisingly warm hand covered his own that he realized he had been holding onto his wand hard enough that his knuckles protested the treatment.

"We don't have to continue if you are uncomfortable."

Harry appreciated the sentiment. "I came into this knowing you would be entering my mind. I prepared for that, especially after the discussion regarding consent. I just didn't think I would be entering  _your_  mind. At least directly."

The smile Malfoy sent him had his heart skipping a beat just as much as the hand that tightened over his.

"Consent doesn't go just one way. I knew what I was getting myself into, Potter. You being worried about my mind is charming, but not necessary. I promise you I will be fine."

When Harry bit his lip, still not sure what to do, Malfoy huffed. "When we talked about consent, it wasn't just to appease our emotions. Consent in Occlumency plays an important role, especially when regarding Legilimency. It changes the aspect of it. Your version today won't be invasive, because I am allowing you entry. Does that make sense?"

Yes, it did. Harry took a deep breath, allowing the words to flow through him and ease his worries. “Alright.” His tone wasn’t as sure as Harry would have liked it to be, but it was true enough.

Malfoy remained crouched in front him, hand still holding Harry’s. “Just look into my eyes and say the spell.”

Eye contact wouldn’t be hard. Harry was having a hard time not looking elsewhere. He took a deep breath before, “Legilimens.”

Harry was surprised when there was no resistance, he slipped right into Malfoy’s mind and it was very different from the few times Harry had seen into Voldemort’s mind.

The first thing that he registered was a chaotic mess. There was so much going on that Harry was positive it was going to give him a headache. Movement everywhere, whether it was actual people or just moving objects. Colors were strewn around so vibrantly it was hard to look at. The theoretical space seemed to be rapidly shrinking and elongating in a momentum he couldn’t keep up with. A loud laugh reverberated around his awareness, if Harry could have covered his ears, he would have. Despite the distractions happening around him, there was a familiarity to the laugh—only he didn’t have the time to stop and consider it.

There was too much happening to be able to concentrate. Harry would have become frustrated if it wasn’t for suspicion to sink in. He looked around at the rapidly moving objects curiously. Was that real? Or were his eyes lying to him?

Harry wasn’t sure how to block out his sight without closing his eyes, would that even work in someone’s mind? With no other options, he closed his eyes.

Harry would have staggered back if he were anywhere else. Without his sight, the sheer presence of Malfoy’s magic was nearly overwhelming. Only, this time it was four senses at once instead of one at a time. The power of Malfoy’s magic was overwhelming. Stronger here than when they were practicing.

Was this the power of a shield? What kind of memory would be strong enough to pull this off?

It was strange being able to see without his sight. There were visible cracks in Malfoy’s magic—he could tell by the way the smell of the magic disappeared in certain spots, or the way the noises all but vanished in those same areas. He knew it was deliberate, Malfoy was guiding him forward.

Harry gently pushed his own magic into those gaps, when he felt his whole being shift his eyes slipped open. He let out a soft exclamation at the sight of a memory.

Malfoy was holding Teddy as an infant and his face was clearly panicked.  _“Andromeda, I don’t think I can do this.”_  Malfoy’s face was a little sallow and the age of Teddy would suggest that this wasn’t long after his release from Azkaban.

_“Nonsense, he’s not going to break, just hold him as I taught you.”_

_“I can physically hold him, but I meant I don’t think I can do it for me. I’m not exactly someone that should watch him.”_

Harry cocked his head to the side, not understanding the thought process that led to that conclusion.

 _“Draco,”_  Andromeda sighed sadly, hand reaching out to cup Malfoy’s cheek.  _“To Teddy, you are his cousin. Or just the person holding him. He’s a baby, you are someone that he will want in his life later on. You can’t punish yourself by excluding loved ones. He’ll grow to love you, something that you deserve.”_

Harry was getting choked up watching Malfoy get choked up. When Malfoy looked down and saw that Teddy had changed his few wisps of hair into a pale blond colour and smiled, Harry swore his heart palpitated.

Before Harry could melt at the happiness in Malfoy’s eyes, the memory changed. Flashes began happening. It took all his concentration to be able to see the pattern.

Memories of Teddy sprung up in a rapid display. It started out with Malfoy just holding Teddy or playing with him. He was able to see the progression of his godson’s days that were spent with Malfoy—something he had always been curious about. The love Malfoy held for Teddy was palpable, and Harry almost wished he could have been a part of them—but this wasn’t about him, it was about Malfoy.

When a memory of Teddy saying Malfoy’s name for the first time appeared, Harry might have cooed out loud. The sheer joy on Malfoy’s face was a memory that would hold strong for Harry.

 _“You’re one of my favorite people, Draco,”_  Teddy’s voice floated around him as a memory became sharper.

Malfoy was laying outside on a blanket next to Teddy as he taught him the constellations. _“That’s because I spoil you.”_

Teddy laughed as his hair changed from blond to blue rapidly. _“Perhaps.”_

Harry couldn’t help but grin when Malfoy began tickling Teddy mercilessly in response. A slight tugging on his magic had Harry prepared to be kicked out of Malfoy’s mind. He almost didn’t want to leave. He wanted to know more about this Malfoy, the one that loved Teddy and cherished the time spent with him.

Malfoy’s magic was receding the more Harry came back to himself. It took a moment before he realized his eyes had closed upon exiting Malfoy’s mind.

When Harry opened his eyes, he noticed that Malfoy wasn’t looking at him, but his cheeks were slightly flushed.

“Teddy’s the source of power for your shield.” Harry didn’t need to see Malfoy nod his head to know that he had been right. The emotions alone in the memories were enough to realize how much Malfoy valued the time spent with Teddy.

“Why did you let me see those?” He knew they were personal and was rather surprised that Malfoy would show him them.

“I needed to show you true memories, because next lesson I am going to slip in false ones, and you need a comparison.”

The explanation wasn’t quite what Harry asked. He wanted to know why those specific memories had been chosen, but the look on Malfoy’s face was reserved and he knew no further insight would be given.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered, he wasn’t entirely sure whether it was for the lesson itself or the memories.

Malfoy acknowledged him with a slight tilt of his head.  

“I would like for you to continue practicing clearing your mind and then your awareness when it comes to your senses. But please do  _not_ practice preparing any mental shields. Mental barriers are tricky and very dangerous if not built properly.”

Despite what people may think, Harry wasn’t a fan of danger. “I’ll practice clearing my mind and working on my senses.” He waited until Malfoy nodded his head before continuing. “Next week again?”

Malfoy hummed in agreement before standing up—taking the warmth of his hand with him—and going back to his desk.

A small part of Harry wanted to ask for a sooner time, but his rational side knew when to keep quiet. “A week it is.” He stood up slowly, allowing his limbs a chance to stretch before he made his way to the door.

“And, thank you, again.” Harry didn’t turn around but paused with his hand on the doorknob to wait for a response.

“It was my pleasure, Potter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is something I had an idea in regard to Occlumency in another story of mine, but this time I took it deeper. I wanted to explore that magical theory and expand on it. 
> 
> If you've read Simple Acts, then you know what I am talking about, and I loved being able to take that idea and do more with it.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry was having a hard time concentrating on clearing his mind and allowing his senses to come out fully. He supposed with practice it would become easier, but for now, it was one or the other.   

“—rry what are you doing?”

Harry startled as the voice jarred him out of the calm trance he had settled into. He blinked his eyes rapidly before peering up owlishly at Ron. “I got your letter about being late for lunch, I was just waiting for you.” He gestured around to the empty break room inside the Ministry. Technically, Ron wasn’t allowed to eat there since he began working with George at the shop—but Harry didn’t care.

Ron arched a brow, something Harry was jealous over. Did everyone have this ability but him? “I said your name three times before you heard me.” He paused to look at Harry critically. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

The concern had Harry smiling warmly at his best friend. “Actually, yes. I have been sleeping great.” His few nightmares were receding the more he learned to clear his mind. That was a side effect Malfoy hadn’t informed him could happen.

“I was practicing a few Occlumency tips. My next lesson with Malfoy is tomorrow and I want to try and master it fully before then.”

At the mention of Malfoy, Ron’s eyes narrowed. Harry knew that Ron hadn’t been happy about Newman assigning Malfoy to be the one to teach him, but it wasn’t as if there were other people. “And you are  _sure_ that this is a good idea? It’s Malfoy you are allowing inside your mind.”

Harry rolled his eyes before gesturing for Ron to sit down. “You and I both know he’s the only option.” He didn’t want to tell Ron that Malfoy hadn’t entered his mind at all yet. That was something that wasn’t really his to share, neither were the memories he had seen. “Besides, Malfoy is an excellent teacher.”

Ron, who had been about to take a bite of soup Hermione had made, paused to re-narrow his eyes. “Uh oh.”

“Uh oh, what oh?” Harry didn’t like the sound of that. Uh oh was never a good thing. Especially from someone who worked at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

“If it’s about Malfoy not being a good teacher, save it.” Harry didn’t want to have to deal with any old dislike right now. “He was really patient with me and his method of teaching is fascinating.”

“Uh oh.”

Harry sighed before leveling Ron with a weak glare. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to guess?”

“Nothing is wrong per se,” Ron hedged, looking around the room as if he needed to keep the exit in his line of sight. “It’s just that I have a busy week ahead of me and I can’t deal with any kind of pining.”

A bewildered noise left Harry and he opened his mouth to refute the statement, but Ron was winding himself up.

“Let’s reschedule that for next week. Or next month—actually, you know what? How about never? That works too.”

“Ron—”

 “No,” Ron rushed, hand coming out to halt Harry. “I know. You can talk to Hermione about this. She’ll know what to say.”

“Ron I really don’t—”

“Harry,” Ron begged, eyes pleading dramatically. “Can you save us both some time and sanity by not pretending you don’t fancy Malfoy?”

Harry sighed heavily, both hands coming to cover his face. “I have had three lessons with him. Three. I might find him attractive,” He ignored the disturbed noise his friend let out. “But that doesn’t mean I am pining for him.”

When he peeked through his fingers, Harry caught a look of disbelief—and since when did Ron become  _this_ observant? “I don’t know him enough to pine.”

“But you want to.”

Statement, not a question. Harry nodded, closing his fingers and not looking at Ron’s face. “Which won’t be happening anytime soon. Not when he’s teaching me Occlumency.”

Ron hummed in interest. “Good. I was serious about my schedule being full.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but his heart warmed up at the easy acceptance from Ron, ever grateful that they were best friends.

 

* * *

 

 The clean office had Harry stopping in the open doorway. He peered around the room, trying to stop the horror from showing on his face. This was not what he had expected. Not a single thing was out of place, and Harry didn’t like it.

“Is something wrong, Potter?”

Harry didn’t even have to look to know that Malfoy knew exactly what was wrong. “Maybe I should ask you that?”

Malfoy smiled, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “I’m fine.”

The statement had Harry pausing, not sitting in the chair he had been about to sink into. Something was… off… about the whole thing. It wasn’t necessarily Malfoy’s response, it was more of the lack of comment on the office itself.

Harry hummed curiously when Malfoy leaned back in his chair, eyes regarding him in a challenge.

Well, challenge accepted then.  

It was a little difficult to keep his eyes opened as he focused on his other senses. The presence of Malfoy’s magic was stronger than it should be. Harry could hear it buzzing around the room, everywhere. When he reached out a hand, he could feel it taking up residence around every nook and cranny.

“Why—” Harry stopped himself, not wanting Malfoy’s help—he could do this. He pulled his wand out of the sheath in his robes. Normally, he wouldn’t bother with his wand, since most of what they did centered around the mind, but this magic went past their training.

A few simple revealing charms showed the true appearance of the office. Things were delightfully messy. Harry cocked his head to the side at how trivial the spells had been when revealing Malfoy’s spells. Malfoy certainly could have made it harder to discover—but perhaps that had been the point? Revealing the office was secondary compared to using his senses to find the cause.

“You have been practicing.” The approval in Malfoy’s tone was enough of a reward for Harry. He smiled in acknowledgment before sitting down on the chair.

“Clear your mind.” It was getting easier to listen to Malfoy’s demands without rolling his eyes.

Harry was a little nervous to show his progress, but did as instructed anyway. It only took a few moments for his mind to filter out his thoughts before he opened his eyes.

Surprising Malfoy would always be one of his favorite things to do. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell, but Malfoy’s slight widening of his eyes was a clear indication of being impressed.

“Well, you certainly won’t need much more practice to do it instantly.”

There was a small flare of excitement at that, Harry was thrilled that he was mastering parts of his lessons.

“Let’s get started with today’s lesson.” Malfoy transfigured a chair before getting up and placing it in front of Harry once more. “You’re going to enter my mind again, only this time I will show you a series of memories, and I want you to tell me afterward which ones were real and which ones weren’t.”

Harry wasn’t confident that he would be able to do that. Knowing the office had been hidden was one thing, knowing memories wasn’t exactly easy.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes, clearly picking up on Harry’s lack of confidence. “You’ll do just fine.”

It wasn’t worded as a reassurance, it was more of a demand, but despite that, Harry felt better.

With his wand still out, Harry locked eyes with Malfoy and whispered the spell.

This time was no different than before, Malfoy’s shield was still chaotic and disorganized. There was still so much going on that it was a distraction. The only difference was Harry’s ability to quickly spot the fissures that Malfoy left open for him.

The first memory came so suddenly that it jarred Harry. Teddy was running around Andromeda’s house laughing so loudly it had Harry melting.  _“Draco! Where are you?”_

Teddy was so focused on running that he didn’t notice Malfoy jumping out of a closet. Malfoy scooped Teddy up, ignoring the shout of surprise that quickly melded into a fit of giggles.

_“You found me! I was supposed to find you,”_  Teddy argued between huffs of laughter.

Malfoy smiled softly as he held onto Teddy.  _“I’ll always find you.”_

Pining was going to be a problem if more memories of Malfoy being a softie with Teddy were shown to him.

When the memory changed, Harry had to fight the feeling of being shoved as it settled into the next one.

Harry’s mind blanked when he recognized this one.

_"Is it true?”_  The drawling tone was  _much_ younger than Harry remembered.  _“They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment. So, it’s you, is it?”_

Why was Malfoy showing him this memory? Was it a means of helping by showing him a definite real one and therefore limiting the options that were out there for the fake ones?

He watched as Malfoy acted pompously and then even watched the failed handshake. It was odd seeing it like this. Harry thought the memory was going to end there, but when Malfoy left the compartment, he followed along.

_“Don’t,”_  Malfoy growled when Crabbe opened his mouth to say something. Harry looked to Crabbe and Goyle, just to have something to do as he watched Malfoy storm back to his own compartment. It wasn’t until he noticed a green and silver tie around Goyle’s neck that he realized this memory wasn’t real.

Or at least part of it wasn’t. They hadn’t been sorted at that time.

 When the memory faded, Harry almost wasn’t aware—too caught up in why only part of the memory had been false.

_“Why do you look sick?”_  Teddy’s voice had Harry focusing on the new memory. Malfoy was holding Teddy’s hand as they walked around Diagon Alley.

_“Rude, Teddy,”_  Malfoy teased easily.

In Teddy’s defense, Harry thought Malfoy looked a bit sick too. Malfoy's hair was rumpled, there were purple marks underneath his eyes and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

_“I’m not sick, just tired.”_

Teddy scrunched up his face, closing one eye in the process.  _“It’s the howlers, right?”_

Malfoy stopped walking, causing a few people to have to walk around them.  _“Where did you hear that?”_

Harry hummed curiously at the way Teddy scowled.

_“I wasn’t sleeping during nap time yesterday and heard you tell Grandma that people are sending you howlers.”_

That was news to Harry. By the height of Teddy, and the state of Malfoy’s appearance, he would surmise that this memory couldn’t have been more than a few months old.

_“You’re such a Slytherin,”_  Malfoy sighed as if this was a regret, though he did crack a smile when Teddy puffed out his chest proudly.  _“Yes, I am receiving howlers, but I already took care of it.”_

_"You’ll get more sleep then?”_  The question held just a smidge of an order, it was enough to have Malfoy rolling his eyes as he tugged on Teddy’s hand and they began walking again.

_“Sometimes I wonder if you are an adult disguised as a child.”_

_“That means I get to eat ice cream for dinner then, if I am an adult.”_

Harry sighed when the memory changed abruptly. Why was it that every memory was one that he wanted to see more of?

_“Like the badge, Potter?”_

Harry wasn’t so sure he liked when the memories were of both of them. At least this was one he wouldn’t want to see more of. He was almost tempted to tune the whole thing out, not particularly open to seeing their past interactions.

Nothing stood out to him much, everything seemed to progress as it had done in his own memories of that day. He watched himself bicker with Malfoy, watched the way the crowd of onlookers laughed.

It wasn’t until Malfoy’s badge changed again that he caught sight of the words, ‘Potter Sucks’, that he realized this wasn’t a full real memory.

Before Harry could see what else had changed, he felt Malfoy gently push him out of his mind.

Harry still found it odd that he came out of Malfoy’s mind with his eyes closed despite the spell initially requiring eye contact.

“Do you have any thoughts as to which ones weren’t real?” Curiosity sparked when Malfoy didn’t move towards his desk, that wasn’t usual.

“The second and last one.” Harry was confident about those two, they were the ones with the small oddities that didn’t make sense.

 “You’re not wrong,” Malfoy moved his hands in a congratulatory gesture. “However, one of the other memories wasn’t real either.”

A small wince left Harry as he tried to recall the other two. Knowing what was different with the two obvious fake ones was easy.

Malfoy sighed a little before leaning forward. “Potter, I included memories you were apart of because you would be able to spot the differences. It gave you a small basis of comparison to work with. The same exact methods used to decipher the two false memories can be used to find the remaining one.”

“But I was there for those ones. How am I supposed to know what you did differently in your memories of Teddy? I wasn’t there to  _see_ it.”

When Malfoy arched both brows and not just one, Harry knew that was an awful sign. He went back over his words, trying to spot what he had said wrong.

Harry groaned out loud when it hit him. “That’s the point. I relied on my sight.” Ergh. Harry couldn’t believe he had fallen so easily into Malfoy’s trick. Not a single time in a memory had he used his other senses.

“I expected that,” soothed Malfoy. The reassurance wasn’t exactly welcoming. “Memories are complicated and can be difficult to change. If I was trying to hide something in a memory, I would be better off sticking as close as possible to the truth and only changing a few key items.”

That had Harry letting out a soft exclamation. “If you change too much does it become distorted?” He recalled the odd memory that Slughorn had given to Dumbledore and how irregular that one had been.

“Yes,” Malfoy agreed readily. “Distortions are a glaring sign of a novice Occlumens. If one can’t confuse a Legilimens with memories, then they are better off projecting their abilities to a shield.”

“If the senses are so important in both Occlumency and Legilimency, then wouldn’t a skilled Legilimens be able to see through attempts at trickery?”

Malfoy lifted his hands, palms upward in an almost placating manner. “A master Legilimens could have zero affinity for Occlumency. Protecting the mind isn’t the same as breaking it open. Yes, usually someone who has mastered Legilimency will have a proficient knowledge of Occlumency, but there are other ways of protecting the mind than Occlumency.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open as he tried to recall ever hearing anything else besides Occlumency to protect the mind.

When Malfoy chuckled at his reaction, Harry tried to school his features. “If you have two Legilimens attempting to break open each other’s minds, there is rarely any amount of Occlumency in the proceedings. A lot of Legilimens use Legilimency as both a defensive  _and_ an offensive measure. It becomes a battle of Legilimency and whoever is mentally stronger will prevail.”

Harry had an odd mental image of two people locked in eye contact and both trying to break open minds at the same time. Would it be a standoff? Wouldn’t be easier to just overpower one of them with spells and then break into the mind?

 “Using the senses against a Legilimens to fool what they see isn’t a tactic they always expect. Most Occlumens use their senses while the shield is still up—they put forth a lot of energy in maintaining the defensive side of it. When Occlumency fails and the shield breaks, a Legilimens tends to assume they have won, they aren’t expecting an offensive maneuver once the initial loss is perceived. Because false memories are hard to get right without major distortions.”

“It’s fighting back by using fake memories,” Harry concluded as he smirked at the logistics of the tactic. “It’s very cunning, but also subtle.”

“Exactly.” Malfoy had a smug smile and Harry had to fight hard to not find it attractive. “Now, do you want to view them again and tell me which one is the remaining fake one?”

Harry nodded, realizing that Malfoy  _had_ anticipated he wouldn’t get them all right since he had never returned to his desk.

This time around, when Harry sunk into Malfoy’s mind and into the memories, he didn’t bother opening his eyes.

Malfoy’s magic was just as powerful in the memories as it was in the shield itself. Harry tuned out the sound of Teddy running around the house, in favor of listening to any kind of disturbances in the memory itself. The smell of the magic hadn’t changed any, nor had the taste.

 As quickly as the memory came, it was gone. Harry was a little frustrated that he hadn’t found anything. Not that he was entirely sure what it was that he was looking for.

It wasn’t until the second memory began that Harry peeked one eye open, needing to see when it was that things began to change. He hummed curiously when a tiny blip in Malfoy’s magic contorted. It was barely there and definitely easy to miss. When Harry opened his eyes, he knew he would find that Crabbe’s tie had changed.

Harry bit his lip as he tried to think of how best to discern exactly what he had heard. His sense of hearing had been what caught the small glitch. It was almost like a sigh, if magic could do such a thing.

As the third memory began, Harry had to fight the urge to open his eyes. This one had been his favorite so far. The comradery and love Teddy and Malfoy had were sweet. He had his own relationship with his godson, but it was nice to see Teddy form a bond with others.

When the memory was nearing the end, Harry tried not to panic. So far nothing had suggested there were any distortions. It wasn’t until Harry reached out with his own magic that he felt the change. It was just as small as the previous memory, but this time it resided in his sense of touch. It was almost as if Malfoy’s magic had ghosted over him in a gust of metaphorical breeze—something he definitely hadn’t detected the first time around.

Harry was pushed out of Malfoy’s mind before the last memory could have a go, but he figured that since he was already aware of that one being false, Malfoy had decided to skip it.

“The third one was false,” Harry said as soon as he opened his eyes and focused on Malfoy.       

Malfoy made a noise of agreement as he walked back to his desk. “Not much to any of the three false memories were changed.”

That wasn’t exactly new knowledge, but Harry nodded anyway.

“I know that right now some of this might not seem entirely necessary, but being able not only use a defensive  _and_ offensive measures will be worth it.”

Harry shrugged one of his shoulders. “It’s not that it’s not necessary, it’s just new to think about. Occlumency had always been this allegedly easy thing to get, and I just wasn’t understanding it. But the teacher is what makes the difference.” He paused when Malfoy looked down at his fingers, as if he wasn’t comfortable with any kind of praise.

“And you are a good teacher, Malfoy.”

When Malfoy’s cheeks turned a pale pink, Harry had to restrain a groan. It wasn’t fair. Malfoy wasn’t allowed to be sexy, charming, an overall git with prime teaching skills,  _and_ cute. That was too much for one person to have. There had to be some kind of drawback.

“You’re not a bad student, Potter.” Well, there was the drawback. Harry huffed at the smirk on Malfoy’s face. Git.

Malfoy shuffled the papers on his desk and that was a signal for the end of the lesson. “Just go over the things you have learned, but stay clear of other people’s memories, alright?”

“Jealous?” Harry teased, grinning at the annoyed glare sent his way.

“Nothing to be jealous of. Just a simple safety measure until you can properly shield yourself.” Malfoy sniffed pretentiously. “Besides, no one compares anyway.”

Harry left the room laughing and in a better spirit than he had been in a long time. 

 

* * *

 

 The lessons continued for several more weeks before Harry felt confident in his abilities to determine whether a memory was real or not. There were times when he wondered if it was overkill, but it wasn’t until Malfoy gave him an example during one of their lessons that it really became clear.

 “If I was an Auror trying to hide valuable intel, I wouldn’t change much of my memories, just tweak it enough that they leave my mind with false information. If I was a criminal and my mind was being opened, I would allow the authorities to see into memories willingly and only change something small. A simple alibi, or perhaps even minimalize whatever crime I committed.”

The example put everything into perspective for Harry. Occlumency had never been shown to be this dimensional before. There was so much to it that had never been taught, and Harry was quickly growing to not only appreciate the art but also genuinely like it.

“While tampering with memories  _is_ hard, it’s also extremely valuable if done correctly,” Malfoy finished, leaving Harry a lot to think about.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that Malfoy thought Harry was ready to begin learning to create his own mental shield.

“You have mastered clearing your mind, your senses are nearly there and spotting fake memories is becoming too easy for you.” Harry was proud of that. In just two short months, he had made leaps and bounds compared to when he began his lessons.

“Have you given any thought as to what you might want to use as your shield? Not just the memory, but the kind of barrier as well. My chaos doesn’t mean that yours needs to be the same.”

Harry closed one eye as his face scrunched up in thought. He  _had_ given it some thought, quite a bit of thought, but he hadn’t quite made up his mind. “Can I try a few different ways?”

“Absolutely. It’s wise to have backup plans, otherwise, you are ill prepared when things don’t go as outlined.”

The Slytherin tendencies were always interesting for Harry to hear. He wasn’t entirely sure Malfoy realized how often he did that.

“What I want you to focus on right now is a memory. It doesn’t have to be singular either. If it’s several memories that help, then go ahead.”

“How will I know if it’s strong enough?”

Malfoy sighed, “We’ll get to that in due time.”

Harry grumbled a little for show before he closed his eyes and tried to think of his parents. They had always been powerful for him, always something that helped when he needed strength. “Now what?”

“Now I want you to immerse yourself in the memory. I want you to try and feel any emotions, positive or negative that are in the original thought, and then I want you to try and visualize it in your mind—almost like a projection.”

There was so little to go off of when Harry thought of his parents. It was hard to really project them into his mind. The emotions to his memories were confusing, because he loved them, and partially longed for what he couldn’t have, but he also felt sad when thinking of them at times.

“Can you see the memory in your mind?”

“Yes.” Harry wasn’t confident that the memory was strong enough for a shield, not when thinking of his parents had several things flickering in and out.

“What I want you to do now is think of a base, something buildable that you can add many layers to when preparing a shield. It doesn’t matter what your mind conjures up, whether it’s a few bricks, or even glass. All that is needed is a small base that can be added to. But keep the original memory in your mind as you do so.”

Harry felt as if that was asking a lot. The vision of his parents was already dispersing. As soon as Harry envisioned a concrete ground as his first layer, his memory vanished.       

“That didn’t work,” Harry sighed in frustration, hands running through his hair. “The memory was having a hard time as a power source to begin with.” He didn’t think trying again with the same memory would work.

Malfoy regarded him in silence before he pursed his lips slightly. “I use my memories of Teddy as my power source  _because_ they are so positive—something that wasn’t ever in my life. But powerful doesn’t have to be positive. You can have negative experiences as a power source.”

That hadn’t crossed Harry’s mind. “How so?”          

“Well, think of a time when something bad happened, but you pushed through it and kept going. Barreled forward, not allowing anything to keep you back—used your own strength and didn’t give up. That’s powerful. Despite whatever was the problem, you prevailed. That right there can fuel a lot of things.”

Harry leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands as his mind rapidly began thinking. There were several things in his life that had happened to him that was bad. His first thought was of the Dursleys, but he didn’t want to think of them, didn’t want to remember his childhood in any capacity.

The glaring obvious was Voldemort.

Voldemort had been someone who shaped his entire life. Could he think of Voldemort and use that to protect his mind? That seemed like a masochistic thing to do. Reliving things he had gone through wasn’t welcoming.

 “It doesn’t have to exactly be the memory of something bad, but more the memory of you succeeding despite the bad times,” Malfoy continued softly, as if he knew where Harry’s head was at the moment.

Harry thought back to the first time he had come face to face with Voldemort after the man regained his body in the graveyard. That was one of the worst days of his life. Not only had he lost a friend, but he lost the naïve belief that he could have an adolescence and just exist as a teenager. That was the moment he knew Voldemort would never stop hunting him. Harry had faced off against Voldemort despite that he was bleeding, bruised and terrified.

Some would say that it had been dumb luck, and they may have been right. But that didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t cowered or caved in the face of evil intentions. No, Harry had stood his ground and fought back. Whether he got lucky or not didn’t change the bravery that his actions required. Harry  _had_ prevailed despite everything. He walked out of the graveyard a different person.

Why not use what he had gone through for his own benefit? Reclaim a small part of himself that Voldemort had aimed to destroy that night. That day may have been one of his worst, but Harry had walked out with a strength that could never be taken away.

“I’m going to try again.”

Harry took a deep breath as he closed his eyes. He flinched internally when the first few thought of Voldemort were projected. That wasn’t what he wanted to center on. It wasn’t until he focused on his emotions and the strength that became of his actions, did Harry feel a semblance of confidence mount.

The memory didn’t flicker, the emotions didn’t waver. Part of Harry wasn’t entirely sure he could use this same memory every time he wanted to build up his shields.

Harry thought that perhaps concrete base had been too grand the first time around. Now, he pictured just the layout, where a base could be—just something basic that could turn into more.

When Harry was confident that his layout would hold, he opened his eyes and nodded in affirmation when Malfoy cocked his head to the side in a silent question.

Malfoy quirked his lips. “What I want you to realize is whatever base you formed,  _that_ was your mental shield. That was the basis of what you will build upon until it becomes something stronger.”

Harry arched his brows, not really liking that. He hadn’t exactly done much more than have a layout.

“What about yours? What kind of base would create all that chaos? It looked—” Harry cut himself off when the obvious hit him. “I didn’t see what your foundations was because I was using my sight.” He had  _felt_ Malfoy’s magic, but had no clue what the base itself looked like.

“It doesn’t matter what your base looks like, because sight isn’t reliable in the first place. Once you are able to form the foundations of a reliable shield, the aesthetic is whatever you choose it to be.”

Harry arched both brows. “You  _chose_ to have your mind be that hectic?”

“It’s easy to lose things when surrounded by everything.”

“That was by far the most useless thing I have ever heard you say.”

Malfoy sniffed dramatically. “Bottom line is that it works. You will have to find what works for you.”

Harry thought over his choice and memory and chose to stick with it, at least for now. There wasn’t much else that he could think of that might work.

“I want you to keep envisioning your memory and trying to form a stronger base. Nothing strenuous, just the base.

The rest of the lesson wasn’t as productive as Harry hoped it would be. Doing nothing but repeating the same thing over and over again was monotonous.

“It’s alright that it doesn’t happen quickly. When it’s something as vital as a mental shield, I would rather it take you longer to build—that way it ensures it will last.”

Harry could see the logic in that, but he wished he could get it as easily as he had understood the other parts of Occlumency.

 “Alright,” Malfoy spoke up, jarring Harry’s concentration completely. “We’re going to take a break for a few minutes.”

Break? That was new.

Malfoy walked over to a cabinet in the corner of the office and pulled out a bunch of… toys?

“Are those children toys?” It was hard to really make out what was in Malfoy’s hands, but he definitely was able to spot a few wizard toys that he knew for a fact Teddy owned.

It wasn’t a surprise that Malfoy completely ignored him until he sat back down.

“Here,” Malfoy handed Harry an unfinished portrait that was cut right down the middle with only half a face done.

“What am I supposed to do with this? Paint the rest?” He snorted until Malfoy nodded his head.

“That’s exactly what you are going to do.”

Harry gaped for a moment. “ _What_? I’m not an artist for a reason.” Whenever he coloured with Teddy, his godson’s blobs of  _something_  looked better than whatever mess Harry could create.

Malfoy sighed in annoyance. “Potter, you aren’t going to paint in the normal sense of the word. I want you to examine what  _is_ completed of the portrait.”

Harry did as instructed and looked at the unfinished person intently. The portrait was of a young girl with dark curly brown hair, the one eye he could see was brown and half of her lips were curled in a smile.

“Close your eyes and envision what the rest of the portrait is supposed to look like, you have half of the painting already, it shouldn’t be hard to picture her.”

It wasn’t hard. Perhaps if he didn’t have half of the portrait, it would have been difficult, but as it was, it was just filling in the blanks.

“Now I want you to slowly push some of your magic into the painting but keep that image of the completed portrait in your mind’s eye.”

The moment Harry pushed his magic out of his fingertips and into the painting, he knew something had changed, the portrait felt too much like him.

Harry opened his eyes and gasped as the missing half of the painting was now complete. The little girl was clapping wildly and grinning up at him in congratulations.

“How did that happen?” Harry asked, eyes still glued to the portrait.

“The painting was already complete. The magic of the portrait is designed to help children finish spells based on context clues. It wouldn’t have lifted the other half if you had envisioned her wrong.”

“Huh.” Harry hummed as he set the portrait down on the desk and looked to Malfoy. “And this is your way of saying that it relates back to my mental shield?”

Malfoy huffed, but Harry was able to see that he was pleased. “Yes. Envisioning a mental shield is in the same category as this painting, only harder. A base, however, can be just as simple.”

“But the painting was half finished. I have nothing to go off of with a base. Just a stupid layout that—” Harry groaned out loud, finally getting it. “The layout is the first half of the painting. I just have to fill it the rest of the way.”

“Exactly.” Malfoy didn’t even bother hiding the smug smile that lit of his face.

Harry took a deep breath before closing eyes and sinking right back into his mind and. Comparing his layout to the portrait helped put things into perspective, but it was still different. It wasn’t until he just tried looking at a completed layout with a few pulses of magic was he able to begin filling in the blanks. It was nothing substantial, but it was a start. “I can do this.”

“Of that, I am sure,” Malfoy whispered softly with emotion, something that Harry was embarrassed to note caused his concentrate to fluctuate.

This pining thing was getting harder to ignore.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t get it,” Ron told Harry as he ignored a customer at the counter. “I wasn’t entirely serious about my schedule. If you want Malfoy, go for it.”

Harry groaned when several heads snapped up, customers pausing to listen in.

“Ron,” hissed Harry, covering his face. “You can’t just  _say_ that.”

“Say what?” George asked as he rounded the corner, holding several boxes of  _Weather in a Bottle_. “And why aren’t you checking out customers?” There was no censure in his voice as he pointed to a small line of people waiting to pay—just open curiosity.

“Harry’s desperately pining after Malfoy.” There was mirth in Ron’s tone and Harry was not amused.

The boxes fell out of George’s hands as his mouth dropped open, the sound covering up Harry’s firm denial of the statement.

George walked behind the counter to stand by Ron and lean forward, gleefully watching the way Harry tried not to blush. “All my dreams are coming true.”

“I—what?” Harry floundered, trying to find a way out of this mess.

“Do you realize how hot Malfoy is?”

  Harry blinked rapidly, completely aware of just how hot Malfoy is.  _That_ was never in question.

   “Is he though?” Ron returned doubtfully.

“Can I pay for my things?” One of the customers in the back yelled. “I have stuff to do.”

 George waved that away, eyes locked on Harry. “Not to mention how much compatibility you two would have.”

“No, seriously,” Ron interrupted. “He’s a pretentious wanker, that  _has_ to lower his aesthetic some. Right?”

“I like to think that appeals to his charms,” Harry muttered quietly, watching the way Ron adopted a look of disgust.

“Ron was right,” George whispered. “You  _are_ pining after Malfoy.”

 “Now that that is established, can we pay?” A woman in the front demanded, arms folding over her chest angrily.

“As soon as Harry says he’ll ask him out,” George exclaimed, teasing smile in place.

Harry looked down at his fingers as his ears heat up. “I can’t. He’s my teacher at the moment.”

“Kinky,” someone in the back tried to hide as a cough.

Ron and George erupted in peals of laughter as Harry wished he was anywhere else.

“What about after your lessons?” wondered George after he gained control of himself.

Harry shrugged once. “Maybe.” He wasn’t sure Malfoy would be interested. There were a few times that they shared lingering looks, or slight touches that went on longer than necessary, but that wasn’t the same thing as a verbal affirmation.

“Alright,” George sighed theatrically. “That’s good enough for now.” He gestured for the next customer up to the counter. “Ten percent discount to all of you in the name of Harry’s love.”

Harry’s groan was drowned out by the cheers of the patrons.

 

* * *

 

 Several lessons later, and Harry was having a hard time keeping his emotions in check. Everything Malfoy did was becoming distracting. From the way he sometimes stuck out his tongue when concentrating, to the way his eyes sparkled when Harry got something right.

“Would it help if I entered your mind to see what the problem is?”

Malfoy’s question had Harry blinking rapidly, entirely aware that he had no idea what Malfoy was talking about.

“What?”

Malfoy’s right eye twitched and Harry was so far gone that even  _that_ was somehow endearing.

“You have mostly established your base, but not what it can be in its full entirety. I was suggesting entering your mind, that way I can discover what the issue is.”

“No!” Harry blurted, not wanting Malfoy inside his mind right now, not when his emotions were all over the place.

Malfoy looked away for a moment, but when he looked back at Harry his eyes were guarded. “I thought we established that whatever is in your mind stays between us. If you are having issues with me inside your mind at this stage of your lessons, I won’t be able to help you.”

Dread filled Harry as he shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant!” He was well aware that his voice was full of pleading, but he wanted Malfoy to understand. “It’s not that I am worried about you in my mind—well I am—” He raised his hand in the air when Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “Not like that! It’s just—I’m not—ugh—this is embarrassing.”

Harry covered his face with his hands as his shoulders slumped. This wasn’t how he wanted this to go. Either he owned up to his feelings, or let Malfoy think that he was the problem. Neither option was preferable.

 “Potter,” sighed Malfoy, voice not angry but resigned. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is.”

“I’m… fond… of you,” Harry spoke slowly, face still covered in his hands. “If you enter my mind right now, I don’t know what you will see.”

A shaky intake of breath had Harry tempted to look up, but his resolve was stronger.

“I’m rather… fond… of you myself.”

Harry snapped his head up, but Malfoy wouldn’t meet his eyes. Did Malfoy’s fond mean the same thing as Harry’s? Why were they both stupid and using other words instead of saying what they meant?

“It doesn’t matter what’s in your mind, because I will still treat it with respect,” Malfoy continued, hands folding together. “Right now, I want to teach you Occlumency.”

Before Harry could wonder if that was a rejection, a small nervous smile lifted the corner of his lips.

“Perhaps at a later date we can approach our… fondness… for each other?”

“Absolutely,” Harry agreed readily, wincing at how eager he sounded. “Erm, if you still want to enter my mind you can.”

 He was a little nervous about that. Despite how long their lessons had progressed, Malfoy still hadn’t ever entered his mind.

“I think it would be wise. If you can get the basics of your base down, then we can build upon that and create your full shield.”

It wasn’t until Malfoy was sitting in front of him that Harry was able to relax a little. It wasn’t as if Harry hadn’t been inside Malfoy’s mind many times. Plus, Malfoy knew what he was doing, and it wasn’t as if Malfoy would harm him.

“I want you to clear your mind before I enter. That way any nervous thoughts will have already emptied.”

That had Harry’s shoulders slumping in relief. He hadn’t even thought about clearing his mind. That would leave everything blissfully empty.

When Harry was able to push everything aside and concentrate on preparing his mind, he nodded once, letting Malfoy know to go ahead.

“I want you to show me what you are working on. Don’t worry about anything else.” It was whispered so quietly that Harry wasn’t sure it was entirely said out loud. Had he heard Malfoy inside his mind?

A breeze of magic let him know that Malfoy was inside his mind. He made sure to keep his layout out in the open. It was nearly filled, just paused in indecision.

After a few minutes, Harry wondered if something had gone wrong considering nothing was happening. He was about to open his eyes when he felt a push of magic.

Harry focused on Malfoy’s magic and watched in fascination when his layout not only filled completely but expanded. More layers were built upon and Harry tried to understand what the layers were when he realized it was just magic. It didn’t matter what the layers looked like.

The way the magic was interwoven was beautiful and Harry hadn’t even known it was possible for a shield to be created by someone else.

When Malfoy’s magic pulsed brightly, Harry knew that was a signal to push him back out.

“That was crazy,” exclaimed Harry the moment he opened his eyes. “I didn’t know you could create a shield for someone else.”

“You can’t, not  _really_ ,” Malfoy explained, biting his lip. “I showed you the areas where your magic needed to go and built upon that. When I left your mind, my magic and shield left too.”

“Oh.” Harry was disappointed in that. It would have been nice if it had stuck around.

Malfoy let out a light laugh. “You have to do your own work, Potter.” The reprimand was accompanied by a slight shove.

“A shield is just magic. Many layers of magic, but they would all be nothing without a solid foundation. Your base is sturdy, just needs more energy. Your problem was distribution, there was so much magic being centered in one focal point that it skipped over areas that needed it just as much.”

Well, that seemed like an easy fix. “And afterward? I just keep adding layers?”

“How about you focus on getting a base first.”

 Harry grumbled a little but closed his eyes anyway and tried to emulate what he had seen Malfoy do. Everything was smooth sailing up until he reached the same point he always had trouble with. It was difficult discovering  _where_ the holes were.

Several minutes passed as Harry examined his base, wishing that Malfoy was back inside his mind. Harry pulsed his magic a few times, but the sound of his magic when it came back wasn’t unison. There were fluctuating returns in the noises. Harry used his senses to examine the anomalies and discovered that those were the spots that needed extra magic.

As soon as the last areas were filled, Harry knew his base was done. It didn’t look like much, not that the sight of it mattered in the first place, but Harry was proud of it regardless.

Harry opened his eyes and couldn’t stop the grin on his face when Malfoy arched a questioning brow. “I did it!”

Malfoy’s eyes lightened, and a full smile lit up his face—Harry’s breath caught audibly, and he watched Malfoy’s smile turn shy. Oh boy.    

“I knew you could.”

The praise had Harry’s heart skipping a beat and he knew his smile had grown. “Only due to your help.”

Malfoy didn’t agree or disagree with the statement, only tilted his head to the side.

“If you can visualize your base by our next lesson instantly, then we will proceed to building up your layers.”                       

Harry sighed a little in disappointment that it was the end of the lesson, but he nodded his head anyway.

“I’ll take that as a challenge.” He liked when Malfoy made a game of it, it sparked his competitive side, but in a healthy manner.

“See that you do.”

The teasing tone had Harry smiling goofily the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

 “Potter!”

Harry snapped his head up, ignoring the way the other trainees looked up too. It was the end of the day and their training had been grueling physically. Newman had them doing physical training before testing their reflexes while exhausted.

Malfoy walked through the room, sneering slightly at a few hostile looks. Harry had a hard time focusing on Malfoy’s face and not his body. Now was not the time to get distracted by the sheer blue shirt and  _tight_ black pants. Merlin, what a visual.

“Malfoy, is something wrong? Our lesson isn’t for another few days.”

When Malfoy picked at invisible lint, Harry got the impression that he was nervous.

“Nothing’s wrong. I was just wondering if you would like to accompany me on an outing, in a private sense?”

Harry furrowed his brows. “Is that—are you asking me out? On a date?” He ignored the surprised noises from his coworkers and peered at Malfoy hopefully.

“If you want to be plebian about it, sure.”

The grin that morphed Harry’s features was probably answer enough, but he couldn’t withhold it if he tried.

“I would love to.”

A few cheers in the background had Malfoy’s cheeks pinking up, but Harry was far more interested in the smile Malfoy was sporting. Oh boy.

“I’ll owl you,” Malfoy whispered, hands twitching as if he wanted to reach out.

Harry watched Malfoy leave and didn’t bother pretending he wasn’t watching the sway of his hips or appreciating just how tight those pants were.

“Not sure about your taste in men,” Rhodes, a particularly rude coworker jeered. “But that’s the nicest I’ve ever seen Malfoy, so you must be doing something right.”

Harry flipped him off, not caring about Rhodes at all. The insight, however, stuck with him. Malfoy had been nice all along when it came to their lessons. Perhaps that was just with him?

Either way, he had a date and that made his aching muscles seem not so bad.

 

* * *

 

“Word around the Ministry is that you have a hot date?” Hermione teased the moment she saw Harry.

Harry groaned a little, but his smile belayed that completely.  

“About time too. I couldn’t take Ron’s complaints anymore.” Hermione was rifling through a bunch of parchments as Harry collapsed in a chair inside her office. “He’s become oddly obsessed with your reluctance to ask Malfoy out.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t. Malfoy asked me out.”

Hermione paused to arch her brows and Harry felt a flare of comradery at the fact she couldn’t arch just one.

“Interesting.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll let me in on why that would be?”

When she went back to work with a smirk in place, Harry knew it would be pointless to ask.

“How are your Occlumency lessons going?” Hermione asked, ignoring Harry’s question completely.

“Good actually. Next lesson should be on building my mental shield with layers.”

Hermione dropped her papers and blinked rapidly. “That’s brilliant.” Before he could ask her to elaborate, she kept going. “The normalized method of Occlumency centers around the all or nothing belief. To build layers upon what I am assuming is some kind of substructure or starting point is intriguing. Most instructors don’t implement new theories right away. Tell me more.”

Normally, Harry wouldn’t subject himself to the million questions he knew she would ask, but at least this wasn’t talking about his date or his love life.

Small victory.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry waited nervously at Malfoy’s front door. His hand was raised, emotions a mess when the door swung open. He had expected to go to the Manor but was surprised to see that Malfoy had gotten his own flat far away from his childhood home.

“Hi,” Malfoy whispered, muscles a little tense but his eyes were sparkling.

“Hi,” Harry parroted back, a hesitant smile on his face.

Malfoy stepped aside to allow Harry entrance. One inhale had him turning to Malfoy with arched brows. “Chicken Tikka Masala? That’s my  _favorite_.”

“I know.” Malfoy looked down at his fingers briefly before guiding Harry into the kitchen. “I asked Weasley.”

Harry froze in his tracks, startled noise leaving his mouth. “How did that go?” Trying to picture how that meeting would have gone was nearly short-circuiting his mind.

“Horribly uncomfortable. I did, however, take amusement in Weasley’s shock when I apologized to him. Made my day actually.”

 Harry sunk into his chair, grateful it was so close. “You, uh, apologized to Ron? I wish I could have seen his face.” He had never himself needed to hear an apology from Malfoy. Words aren’t necessary when it’s clear to see just how much Malfoy had changed. He had known before their lessons started that Malfoy was different.

“You could always see it in my mind, if you want to view it.”

The tone had Harry furrowing his brows. “I don’t need to, I believe you. I just think it would have been fun trying to guess how red his face had gone.” Would serve the prat right too, especially after the debacle in the shop.

“Malfoy,” Harry began hesitantly, unsure of why Malfoy still wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Is something wrong? Did you not think I would believe you?”

Malfoy winced slightly. “It’s not that, not really. I have received some colourful owls since asking you out.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, remembering Malfoy’s memory and the howlers that had been sent. Was something similar happening? “Who sent them?”

“I assure you, I can take care of myself,” Malfoy growled, hands clenching before he stood up to start bringing dinner forward and dishing it out.

Harry sighed, trying not to work himself up. “I know you can, believe me. I know you are more than capable of handling someone.” He grinned as he recalled an incident a few years ago where Malfoy had hogtied an attacker and waited patiently for Aurors to arrive. The scene had been printed in the Daily Prophet for weeks.

When Malfoy looked pleased by his statement, Harry wondered what he was thinking. “I realize that they are sending the hate to you, but it’s also insulting for me. It’s as if they think they have some inside insight on  _my_ feelings. As if I hadn’t already wanted to date you, as if their opinion on my love life has any merit. They are demeaning my choices, and in no way is that okay.”

“I knew what I was getting myself into,” Malfoy informed him primly as he passed Harry a plate and summoned a bottle of Elvish wine. “Publicly asking out Harry Potter was going to get backlash. It was inevitable.”

“But you still did it,” whispered Harry, knowing firsthand that Malfoy was right. Every relationship of his was in the public eye. It was always a huge negative factor for past partners.

Malfoy paused, fork hanging inelegantly. “Why the bloody hell wouldn’t I?” Indignation was prominent. “Potter, I’m not ever going to have the public respect. It’s something I don’t see changing, and I am okay with that. I made many mistakes in my life and downplaying that will get me nowhere. No matter what I do with my life, I will always be in the spotlight—a negative one—but a spotlight nonetheless. Asking you here was something I had to think a lot about.”

Harry bit his lip, unsure if this was what he wanted to hear.

“Not because of you,” Malfoy rolled his eyes as he waved his fork, sending food flying. That was the moment Harry knew he was falling for Malfoy. No one should be able to flail like that and still somehow look regal. “But for me. I’m not interested in quick and easy conquests. Not with you and certainly not with the kind of attention that would bring.”

Harry could a feel a flush creep up. “I’m not interested in a fling either.” He wanted to get to know Malfoy, wanted to see the person in the memories that loved Teddy, wanted to understand everything about him.

“I know.”

There was a wicked gleam to Malfoy’s eyes and it immediately had him wary.

“Imagine my surprise when I entered Weasley’s place of business and got bombarded by his brother.”

Harry groaned loudly, placing his fork on his plate before covering his face. “Please tell me he didn’t say anything embarrassing?”

“Embarrassing for you perhaps, but I found it endearing,” Malfoy teased, smiling around his fork. “I didn’t realize you have been pining after me for months.”

“Kill me now, just make it quick and I promise not to haunt you in the afterlife.”

Malfoy let out a delighted laugh, the noise soothing Harry and causing him to sigh happily at the same time. “George also implied that should I ever need an upgrade, to come to him and he’ll be more than happy to offer his services.”

When Harry narrowed his eyes, Malfoy laughed again, only this time more freeing and still as beautiful.

“He did say you would react like that.” Before Harry could curse George mentally, Malfoy sighed softly. “I’m not interested in him or anyone else for that matter.”

Malfoy extended his hand, palm upward and slightly hesitant. Harry immediately placed his own hand down and watched Malfoy curl his fingers around his hand.

“Just you,” Malfoy whispered, eyes glancing down to their hands.

“Just you,” Harry parroted back, wanting to return the sentiment but not having the same flair for words.

Malfoy’s smile proved that his response was good enough. Harry knew without a doubt that this night would be in his mind for a long time coming.

* * *

 

 Harry walked towards Malfoy’s office slower than he normally would have. Part of him was nervous about seeing him for the first time since their date. Which had ended with a promise for second one. After dinner, they spent hours on Malfoy’s couch talking about everything and nothing at once. Most of the time Harry had a hard time talking to others—sharing parts of himself wasn’t exactly a welcoming thought. But Malfoy was different—Malfoy was someone Harry knew would listen to his words and keep it to himself.

Towards the end of the date, Harry wanted to lean over and kiss Malfoy, but there hadn’t been any sign that it would be welcomed. They had continued to hold hands and they ended up pressed against each other, but that was all that had happened. Which Harry didn’t mind taking it slow, if that’s what Malfoy wanted—he just wanted to know where they stood.

As Harry approached the door, he could see that it was open—which had him a little suspicious.

When Harry walked in, Malfoy wasn’t sitting behind his desk. Before Harry could take a second look, since his senses were telling him that Malfoy  _was_ here, he was gently pushed up against the wall.

“Hi,” Malfoy whispered, a smile lighting up his features in a way that had Harry’s heart skipping a beat.

“Hi,” Harry returned breathlessly. “Is this some kind of test?” It wasn’t usual for Malfoy to act like this.

Malfoy rolled his eyes as he ignored Harry’s question completely. “Can I—?”

“Yes, absolutely.” Harry’s eyes were glancing down towards Malfoy’s lips. It wasn’t until he realized that nothing was happening that he looked up and saw an arched brow.

“I was going to ask if I could call you by your first name. But I am far more interested in whatever you thought I was asking.”

Harry groaned as he laid his head on Malfoy’s shoulder, wishing that he could hide there forever. “Would you believe me if I said it was the same thing?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You can, you know, call me by my name.” A small shiver of pleasure went through him at the thought of Malfoy saying his first name. “And maybe I could return the favor?” It should be weird that the question was even asked, but he knew how serious Malfoy was when it came to personal boundaries. If he wanted to keep things the status quo, Malfoy would respect it instantly.

A gentle hand lifted his head up till beautiful grey eyes roamed over his face. “Harry.”

Coming from Malfoy, the use of his first name was an intimate gesture, one Harry hadn’t fully been prepared for how much he would  _like_ it.

“Draco.”

When Mal— _no—_ Draco’s body shivered, Harry placed his hands on Draco’s shoulders. At least he wasn’t the only one affected.

“I won’t be so easily distracted,” Draco chided, hands coming up to cover Harry’s. “What were you hoping I was asking you?”

“I wouldn’t say I was  _hoping_ —” Another arched brow had Harry sighing heavily. It wasn’t fair that Draco seemed to know when he was bullshitting.

“Well, do you think—erm—can I—?” Harry bit his lip, watching Draco’s eyes lower to watch the movement—the action causing courage to build up. “Can I kiss you?”

“Salazar, yes,” Draco breathed, hands cupping Harry’s cheeks.

Harry’s breath caught, but he had enough wits to place his hands around Draco’s waist and pull him close.

When Draco’s lips touched Harry’s delicately, too soft, barely there, he leaned forward to press harder—relishing in the slight gasp Draco released. Harry lifted one of his hands and carded his fingers into Draco’s hair—something he had been wanting to do for  _ages_. It really was as soft as it appeared.

Draco’s thumb caressed Harry’s cheek and he was positive that was the moment he melted into a pile of goo and would never be the same again.

Their lips moved languidly and just a touch shy of sensuously. Harry knew this was without a doubt the best first kiss he has ever had, whether it was due to emotions or the buildup—he wasn’t entirely sure.

When they pulled back, chests heaving slightly, and lips parted, Harry couldn’t help but cup Draco’s cheeks too. “I’ve been wanting to do that since our second meeting.”

“I promise you that I have been wanting to do that far longer.” Draco’s statement was accompanied by a thumb to Harry’s lip, which he promptly let his tongue run along the skin.

“Harry,” Draco groaned as he pulled his thumb away quickly. “Do not start something you can’t finish.”

“Who says I can’t—” Harry was cut off by Draco’s palm covering his mouth.

“I have to pretend to have even a semblance of professionalism. We have a lesson to get to.”

_Right_. Occlumency paled in comparison to snogging Draco, but life wasn’t always fair. “Alright, let’s learn something.”

When Harry went to gently push Draco backward, he was stopped by the muscles locking.

Draco leaned forward and pressed a ghost of a kiss to Harry’s lips. “Something to look forward to.”

“You really are evil, you know?”

Harry would never tire of hearing Draco’s laugh. He watched the way Draco threw his head back and laughed warmly, hair flowing easily. It was definitely one of his favorite sights to see.  

“You might think so by the end of the lesson.” The presage wasn’t appreciated. “Run through your exercises.” Harry sat down in his usual chair and closed his eyes. 

Clearing his mind and even using his senses were becoming second nature to Harry. They were as easy as breathing or extending his magic outward.

When Harry gave a nod of affirmation, Draco sat in the chair that was already in front of Harry.

“I want you to show me your base, I need to make sure it’s complete so that we can start building upon it.”

Harry looked into Draco’s eyes and allowed him entry instantly. He could build the base first and then let Draco inside, but for some reason, Harry wanted to show Draco his progress from the beginning.

Instead of rushing into it, Harry went slowly and made sure to fluctuate his magic in a way that would distribute it evenly and still fill all holes.

It wasn’t as smooth as it could have gone, but Harry was proud that he was able to finish it without help.

When Draco’s magic pulsed, Harry assumed that meant they would be leaving his mind to continue the lesson, but he noticed that Draco’s magic was moving towards the completed base.

Harry watched curiously as the magic began thrumming. He stretched out his own magic to feel the differences. Was Draco going to teach him without words? Uh oh. Harry wasn’t sure he could properly implement new lessons with no words whatsoever.

It was easy to spot the differences in their magic. Harry could tell where Draco was adding in a layer of magic to the base. It held a distinctive aura of power—and the foundation was becoming stronger. When Draco had told him that layers would be added to the base, he had automatically pictured magic stacked on top of magic. But that wasn’t what was happening.

The sheet of additional magic molded into the plinth as if it had been there all along. Draco’s magic wasn’t building upon the foundation in the traditional sense of the word. It was adding power but not changing the shape or density of the original base.

When Draco’s magic shifted, Harry examined the work, wanting to see if it was something he could replicate easily.

There wasn’t a different category to the magic other than it being Draco’s. There was nothing to suggest that it would be any harder than building the base. The only difference was more magic.

It wasn’t until Draco receded his magic from the base that Harry felt his own magic being stretched out in a way that was uncomfortable. Not only would he have to maintain the magic inside the base, but he would have to pull forward even more magic to add to it. The distribution of the foundation had already taken most of his magic. There was no way he was going to be able to add an even layer to maintain the consistency that would be required.

When Draco’s magic left his mind completely, Harry followed.

“How am I supposed to add in magic that I don’t have?” Harry wasted no time questioning it all.

“That’s where you are wrong. You  _do_ have it. Just not in the way you are thinking,” Draco argued. “Think of it as a muscle. They have their limits and when you overuse a muscle, it will strain, but with physical exercises, your muscles can go past those limits and form new ones. It’s the same thing with magic. If you can expand your magic to its limit and then slowly exceed that, your magic will continue to grow.”

Now the warning was beginning to make sense. “This is going to suck, isn’t it?”

The wicked gleam to Draco’s eyes had Harry groaning.

“No whining, it won’t be too bad,” Draco commanded, lips twitching as he pulled out a small glass block that held a pale blue light that shone brightly. “This is a conduit block. It holds part of my magic inside it, and there are seven more just like it hidden all around the room. What I want you to do is to find them.”

“That sounds easy enough,” Harry was good at detecting things, perk of training to be an Auror.

When Draco arched a brow, Harry’s shoulders slumped. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“I want you to focus part of your magic on the conduit block as well. Each new block you find, you will separate your magic and add it to mine in inside the blocks. We are going to stretch your limits.”

“Starting with this one?” Harry gestured towards the one in Draco’s hands. When the Draco nodded, he reached out and added his own magic to the block. The light emitting from the block changed to a deep cyan and Harry knew that meant something significant but pushed that to the side for now and focused on finding Draco’s magic.

Being in a confined space for so many months was enough that Harry knew Draco’s magic well. Well enough that was easy to detect where the blocks were at. It took a moment before he realized that Draco hadn’t meant to hide them from his senses, the point was stretching his magic—so detecting them wasn’t a part of the test.

The first few were simple and straightforward—separating his magic wasn’t any different than concentrating on his senses. Cyan lights flickered around the room as Harry maintained his magic.

It wasn’t until after the fifth one that Harry felt his magic reaching its limit. He had to concentrate harder on maintaining the control on the past blocks. When the light began flickering from the fifth block, Harry had to take a deep breath and try again.

Harry could feel sweat bead on his forehead and he wondered at how his magic and body could be exerting the same amount of stress.

Equal distribution. It didn’t matter how much magic he could extend out, as long as he divided it evenly, even if that meant a lesser amount in each block.

When Harry dissolved all magic in the blocks, he heard Draco make a confused noise, but he didn’t have time to explain before he began again, only this time with less magic.

Each flare of cyan filled Harry with satisfaction. With it split evenly, there was no strain on his magic.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Leave it to you to make this harder for yourself.”

Harry blinked rapidly, trying not to lose his concentration.

“I want you to put in a minuscule amount of magic in every single one of the blocks.”

“But—” A frustrated noise left Harry. “I can’t do that. My magic is evenly displayed.”

“How can you go past your limits if you stop right at them? That’s not going to change anything. Harry, I need you to push yourself.”

Harry closed his eyes as he tried to do as instructed. He didn’t have to look at the conduit blocks to know that they were flickering. Harry’s magic was beginning to waver under the effort. He only managed to add a few bursts of additional magic into three of the blocks.

When he couldn’t stretch his magic any further, Harry slumped down into his seat, drained.

Gentle hands cupped Harry’s face. “Are you alright?”

Harry opened his eyes and smiled at Draco before nuzzling the warm hands. “I’m fine. It’s just harder than I thought it would be.”

“Let me get you a Pepperup potion.”

 Harry placed a hand on Draco’s, stopping him from moving. “Wait. Can we stay like this for a minute?”

Suspicious eyes narrowed. “I am a professional, Potter, you do know what that—” Draco trailed off when Harry kissed his palm. “I suppose a few minutes wouldn’t hurt anything.”

Harry had to fight hard to keep the smug smile at bay as he leaned forward into Draco’s now waiting arms.

“You are doing remarkably well,” Draco praised, hand carding through his fingers. “I’ve taught a few people in Occlumency, but they weren’t as dedicated nor much of a quick learner.”

The praise was something Harry knew they would have to explore and talk about later, because it was becoming distracting—in every positive aspect of the word.

“You are an excellent teacher,” Harry returned the praise, knowing that he couldn’t take all the credit. “I never thought I would grow to  _like_ Occlumency. Especially not after learning with Snape—but you make it fun and interesting.”

“I like teaching.” The whisper was muttered in a way that Harry knew Draco was voicing something private. “I was always told that to be successful, I needed to have power. The power of staying hidden but also having a hand in everything, the power of having plausible deniability, and the power to blame others.”

Harry didn’t have to be smart to know that Draco was talking about Lucius. If the man wasn’t still locked in Azkaban, Harry might’ve been tempted to hex the prat.

“But there’s power in teaching others. Power in giving knowledge and shaping the minds of others in a positive way. Teaching is also vulnerable too. I am giving so much of myself when educating others and trusting them to listen and implement my lessons. I’ve learned something from every lesson I have with someone, I’m taking away just as much as they are receiving, and I love that.”

Harry lifted his head up, taking Draco’s hands into his own. “You don’t like being here at the Ministry?”

“No, not really,” admitted Draco, eyes downcast and frown forming. “When I give seminars here, it’s always to a bunch of morons that assume they know everything. Not only that, but they don’t  _want_ to learn. That makes a difference. I really want to teach children, help the next generation of wizards learn something”

“Have you thought about teaching elsewhere?”

A derisive snort had Harry’s heart sinking. “No one wants a Death Eater teaching children.”

“I think you would be wonderful at it.”

Draco squeezed him tightly. “Thank you, Harry.” A regretful sigh escaped Draco before he cleared his throat and gently pushed Harry back enough that he could get up.

A Pepperup potion, three achingly sweet kisses, two shy smiles later, and Harry was walking out Draco’s office happier than he has been in a while.

* * *

 

Learning to stretch his magical limits wasn’t pleasant. Harry decided that perhaps Draco was evil after all. Sure, the attentive care and inappropriate cuddle sessions helped, but it was still grueling on his magic.

Harry knew it was dangerous to stretch his limits often, but he wouldn’t be able to get it locked down otherwise.

Two more lessons and he was successfully able to add two additional layers to his base.

“Once you are comfortable with the amount of magic you are layering, you can begin shaping the aesthetic. This is one of the final steps and then we can test your overall shield.”

Harry didn’t want his lessons to end, the urge to spend more time with Draco was preferable, but it wasn’t as if they didn’t spend time outside of the lessons. Their second, third and even fourth date had been memorable.

“What should it look like?”

Draco huffed, which Harry knew that meant he thought it was a stupid question. “It doesn’t  _matter_ what it looks like. The outward appearance of a shield is designed as a distraction in the first place. It could be absolutely empty, and it would still be useful.”

Empty. The word stuck with Harry for the remainder of his lessons. Compared to Draco’s shield, it was the complete opposite. Part of Harry liked the idea of copying Draco’s chaos, that was something he would be comfortable with—but doing something different was appealing. Empty. How would that work? With the chaos of Draco’s mind, there was so much going on that it was distracting. Would an empty design stop someone enough to be distracted? Or would the emptiness make it easier for an attacker to focus?

“In your shield, I remember Teddy laughing. Was that something you actively thought about adding?”

Draco hummed thoughtfully. “Not at first. When I was creating my layers, it was hard not to let the power source for the foundation seep through. Since Teddy is the memory I use, parts of that emulated. It isn’t a typical action, but I decided that it would add to the distractions I wanted to implement.”

With the strength Harry got from facing Voldemort, his options were limited on how to emulate anything. If he chose to do something else besides a blank design, then it wouldn’t be so difficult—but Harry couldn’t shake the idea that a void was the perfect distraction.

“You said that the power source for the foundation can be negative, but what about the design of the shield? Can that be negative?”

“It can be whatever you want, Harry,” pressed Draco, hands gesturing wildly. “Negative can be a powerful tool. If whatever you design is aimed at making them feel uncomfortable, then that on top of your defenses will make for a solid shield.”

Harry’s finger tapped quickly as he wondered how much of that experience he could project outward. Occlumency would be used when his mind was at danger, if he was in a desperate need to safeguard something, then small parts of what he went through would be okay to relive once in a while.

“When you bring forward your shield, how aware are you of the design?”

Draco wrinkled his forehead in confusion. “I’m not entirely sure I understand what you are trying to say. I’ve been using the same shield design for years. It’s instantaneous, my mind already going into the familiarity of the motions. I don’t  _have_ to actively be thinking of the design—because it’s second nature.”

Harry nodded, that easing any worries he might have had left. It would take some time to get used to it, but he could do it.

“How do you shape the design of a shield?”

“Same way you first envisioned the memory of your power source—you project it. It may take some time to properly visualize it, depending on how in depth your distractions are. Mine, for example, is filled with hundreds of things. That took time to remember the layout each time.”

Harry felt a smirk form as he realized there were perks to this after all. It wouldn’t take much to imagine nothing.

“But,” Draco continued, eyeing Harry warily. “You need to prove to me that your layers can hold up to that first. So, get to practicing.”

Harry rolled his eyes, making sure Draco could see the dramatic flair to it.  There was an almost proud gleam to Draco’s eyes and that let Harry know that he was taking after Draco just a tad bit too much.

He couldn’t bring himself to be too upset at that.

* * *

 

“Can I touch you?”

The question shot hot arousal throughout Harry’s body. Draco’s hands were hovering over Harry’s bare chest, patiently waiting for approval.

“Yes,” Harry moaned, arching into the touch completely. “ _Please_.” Nails lightly scratching a path downward had little pants releasing as Harry gasped breathlessly.

When a warm mouth followed behind the movement of Draco’s hands, Harry’s mind began to lose focus. A sinful twist of a tongue had Harry closing his eyes tightly.

“So responsive,” Draco whispered before kissing Harry’s stomach, right below his belly button. “May I?”

Harry had to peer down to understand what Draco was asking. He moaned when elegant fingers were centimeters from unbuttoning his trousers.

“Ngh.” The response combined with a less than subtle thrust of hips must have been answer enough, because Draco quickly had his trousers open and his pants pulled down in no time.

Draco licked his lips when Harry’s hard cock slapped his stomach, leaving a wet trail against his abdoman. The breath left Harry in a whoosh when Draco dropped to his knees.

“You can do whatever you want to me,” panted Harry when Draco opened his mouth to no doubt ask for permission for something else.

“Impatient wanker.” The chide would have warranted a response, but the press of a tongue against Harry’s tip had Draco winning that round.

There was victory gleaming in Draco’s eyes, but Harry would let him win  _anything_ as long as that tongue didn’t go anywhere.

“Draco, please,” begged Harry when Draco pursed his lips and only suckled lightly. “More.”

 Normally, demanding anything from Draco would get him the exact opposite, but Draco closed his eyes briefly and shuddered.

Before Harry could wonder at that, Draco  _finally_ took him fully into his mouth. Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair, resting gently on his head.

“Just—just like that, Draco.”

Draco hollowed his cheeks as one hand wrapped around the base of Harry’s cock and the other to cup his balls.

“Draco.”

Draco let out a moan, the vibration causing Harry’s eyes to roll backward.

“I’m not going to last long if you keep this up.”

Harry would have narrowed his eyes at the arched brow that signified he had made a stupid statement—but Draco’s mouth felt too good.

“Sorry,” Harry gasped when his hips thrust forward, and his dick hit the back of Draco’s throat. He would have pulled away, anticipating that Draco would need a moment, but was surprised when Draco moaned again.

Draco dropped the hand that had been gently fondling his balls and placed it on one of Harry’s arse cheeks. A light squeeze almost from both hands was almost enough to have his hips stuttering once more, but he managed to restrain the urge.

A light slap to Harry’s arse had him jolting to attention back towards Draco’s face. Draco pulled Harry forward with little gestures that conveyed his wishes.

“Are you sure?”

The withering glare he received should not have been sexy, Harry wasn’t sure how Draco managed to do just that.

“You want me to— _fuck yes_ —you want me to fuck your mouth?”

When Draco let out another moan, Harry’s control snapped. He put more pressure on Draco’s head and waited for the hand holding his cock to drop before he gently snapped his hips forward.

The warm wet heat of Draco’s mouth was the only thing he could focus on as his primal need for completion took over. Another smack to his arse had Harry realizing that Draco didn’t want gentle.

“You like your mouth stuffed full of my cock?” Each word was accompanied by an increasingly harder thrust until it was a punishing pace.

The whimpers and moans Draco released only spurred Harry on faster. When green met grey, Harry bit his lip from crying out as he came in thick spurts that hit the back of Draco’s throat.

 “Oh god.” Harry’s knees would have buckled if Draco’s strong arms hadn’t held him up.

 The prominent bulge in Draco’s trousers had Harry pulling Draco up with him as he hobbled over to his bed.

 Harry pushed Draco until he was laying on his back. “I can’t promise I will be nearly as elegant as you.”

Draco laughed, something Harry would normally treasure, but right now he wanted to hear something else.

The hiss of pleasure Draco released when Harry cupped him through the trousers was a good start.

Harry didn’t have the patience to undress Draco slowly, not when he was itching to get his hands on bare skin. He reached clumsily, knocking over something on his bedside dresser in an attempt to reach his wand. A flick had Draco’s clothes vanishing to his closet before he tossed his wand to the side.

“Impatient wanker,” Draco chided again, smug smile in place. Something Harry couldn’t wait to wipe away.

Draco naked, gleaming and beautiful was going to be one of Harry’s favorite things to see.

“You want my mouth on you?” Harry questioned, ignoring the censure completely.

Draco closed his eyes and arched upward till Harry’s hands were touching him. “I want your hands.”

"Only my hands?”

Draco nodded quickly before twisting his head back and forth when Harry wrapped his fingers around Draco’s prick.

“I want them on me, and— _yes_ —in me.”

Harry paused, causing Draco to whine in protest as he began fucking Harry’s fist on his own.

“You want me to finger you?”

“Please.”

Harry blindly reached for his lube, grinning when his desperation had it summoning wandlessly.

When Draco spread his legs and lifted his knees to his chest, Harry tried not to whimper. He continued to stroke Draco slowly, firmly and with the presence of mind to run his thumb along the head every few strokes.

Harry dipped two fingers into a vial of brewed lube, grateful that he had run out of the muggle kind last week.

Draco keened loudly when Harry slowly circled his rim, finger slowly caressing the furled skin. “Harry.”

The demand was breathless and held no power, but Harry wanted to comply anyway. He pushed his finger in, loving the way Draco groaned loudly.

“ _Harry._ ”

Harry quickened his pace both his hand and his fingers.

“Can you—” Draco shook his head, biting his lip in clear indication of changing his mind.

Harry stilled, ignoring the whine Draco released. “What is it you want, Draco?” He ran his thumb across the underside of Draco’s cock deliberately. “I’ll grant you anything, you know this.”

The pink hue to pale cheeks had Harry’s heart clenching. “I won’t judge you.”

Draco looked away, his embarrassment not enough to flag his erection. “Will you enter my mind?”

“Come again?” Harry blinked rapidly, trying to understand why Draco would want that. This wasn’t a lesson.

“I want you to know what you do to me. I want you to see it— _feel_  it.”

Harry looked into Draco’s eyes, trying to discern if his boyfriend  _really_ wanted this. When there was nothing but honest want, Harry shrugged his shoulders. If Draco wanted to come with Harry inside his mind, fingers in his arse and a hand on his cock, well who was he to deny him that?

“Legilimency,” Harry whispered not breaking eye contact.

Harry moaned loudly at the secondhand pleasure that assaulted him. It was hard to tell where it was coming from. He jolted when he realized that it was him—Harry was causing this pleasure and it was all Draco’s enjoyment.

It took far longer than he would care to admit to be able to separate the action of Legilimency and his still thrusting fingers.

“Harry.” The whisper wasn’t just in his ears, but also his mind as well.

Emotions, smells, and recent memories assaulted Harry every few seconds. It was almost too much, an overload of too many things happening at once.

Harry could tell that Draco was close, the secondhand thoughts of ‘ _more’_ and _‘faster’_  reverberating loudly.

As soon as Harry slipped in a second finger, he felt Draco convulse as his orgasm hit had, coming over Harry’s fingers. The rush of an orgasm that wasn’t his own left Harry both satisfied and wanting more.

Harry exited Draco’s mind slowly, smiling at the pleased expression on Draco’s face.

“That was unexpected,” Harry whispered, pulling his fingers out of Draco and wandlessly cleaning the both of them.

“But amazing,” said Draco, pulling Harry on top of him and wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist.

“I didn’t realize that Legilimency could be used like that.”

Draco stilled a little. “I’m sorry. I should have discussed it with you before the heat of the moment. I’ve never wanted to do use Legilimency that way that with someone until you.”

“Hey.” Harry lifted his head till he could see Draco’s face. “I wouldn’t have done it if I was uncomfortable. Sure, maybe a conversation discussing the risks would have been smart.” When Draco winced, Harry held up a hand.

“But Draco, I already know the risks. We’ve been having lessons for months. I am well aware of the negative aspects of entering your mind. I  _wanted_ to do it and I would do it again.”

“Yeah?” There was a hopeful edge to the question and Harry smiled into Draco’s eyes.

“And maybe when my shield is strong enough, you can enter my mind?” Harry asked, fingers trailing down Draco’s cheeks.

“I would love to.”

  Harry rolled onto his side, pulling Draco with him. “Maybe we could discuss  _other_ things we might be willing to do together?”

The grin Harry could feel pressed into his skin had him holding on to Draco tighter as his eyes drooped and his breathing evened out. 

* * *

 

 “Do you want to tell me what your design is?” Draco asked as he crossed his legs and examined his nails. “Or are you going for the element of surprise?”

Harry bit his lip, unsure of how to explain his thought process. He had  _finally_ managed to finish layering his magic. The speed at which he could build wasn’t as fast as he would like, but Draco had told him that only practice would change that.

He had been projecting what he wanted his shield to look like all week, and even managed a shimmering image—however brief it had lasted.

“I think it would be wise if I told you beforehand. I don’t want to… upset you.”

Concern flickered in the grey eyes Harry was always mesmerized by. “You should be worried about you, not me. This is  _your_ mind.”

“Yes, but it’s you who might find it triggering.”

“Harry.” Draco reached forward and entwined their fingers. “What exactly aren’t you telling me?”

Harry took a deep breath and explained what exactly his power source had been and his plans for turning Draco’s throwaway comment into his outward appearance for a shield.

“I’ll admit that it’s an unorthodox method, but why is this triggering for me?”

Harry winced slightly, looking away quickly. “You remember when I asked about Teddy’s laugh and why it was there?”

Draco closed his eyes in comprehension. “The Dark Lord’s laughter is going to reverberate around a cavity of nothing that could very well represent a pit of despair?”

“I always knew you were smart.” Harry quickly raised his free hand in a placating manner when Draco glared. “Sorry, I just—yes, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

“Well, it will certainly have any attackers running for the hills the moment they enter your mind.”

Harry peered up at him through his lashes and tightened his hold on Draco’s hand. “You don’t think it’s bad? Or wrong?”

Draco rolled his eyes before pulling Harry into his lap. “It doesn’t matter what I think, Harry. This is  _your_ mind. You are the one who has to protect it, not me.”

“I  _know_ that,” Harry emphasized. “I just—”

“For what’s it worth,” Draco interrupted as he pressed his forehead to the front Harry’s shoulder. “I think it’s unique, different, cunning and smart—traits that you embody well.”

The tension that had been building left Harry quickly, leaving him emotionally boneless. “You are a flatterer, Draco Malfoy.”

“I try,” Draco whispered lifting his head and capturing Harry’s lips in a gentle kiss.

“What happened to you being a professional?” Harry teased, words ghosting over Draco’s lips.

“That was shot to hell the moment you first walked in here.”

The kiss turned into more smiles than anything else, but it was exactly what Harry needed.

“Mold your shield.”

 Harry leaned back, frown forming. “You say the sexiest things.”

Draco rolled his eyes pushing Harry back into his own chair. “If you can properly build it, even for a moment, I will owe you a favor.”

“Favor?” Harry’s mind was whirling through dozens of things he might want. Muggle movie night, Weasley dinners and even sexual favors.

“Anything you want.” The offer was whispered breathlessly, but Harry knew that Draco had done it on purpose. The tease.

“Done. You are going down, Malfoy.”

“I look forward to it, Potter.”

With the spark of a challenge coursing through Harry, he closed his eyes and built his shield in all its layers and glory. It still took longer than he liked, but he no longer had to strain his magic to accomplish it.

As Harry tried conjuring up the image he had been perfecting, he realized he would need more magic than originally planned.

“Fuck.”

An amused noise could be heard, but Harry tuned Draco out. He should have known it wouldn’t be as easy as it seemed. Draco doesn’t make bets on a whim.

But Draco wasn’t aware that Harry had continued pushing his magic further. He had added the exercises to his daily mind clearing and senses training.

“I’m ready.”

A silence settled around the room and it almost had Harry opening one eye.

“What?” The suspicion in Draco’s voice had Harry smirking.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?”

When Harry opened his eyes, he felt Draco sink in immediately.

The design wasn’t as finished as he would like it to be, he still had some things to work out later—but that wasn’t required for the bet.

Darkness covered Harry’s shield in waves of pitch black nothingness. It was ominous and creepy, the exact aesthetic he had been hoping for. Any direction one looked would seem endless. Draco had causally said pit of despair earlier, but that wasn’t far from the truth. Harry knew that if someone entered his mind, they wouldn’t expect it to be  _empty_. But that’s the kind of irony he was proud of.

When the cold, cruel and high pitched laughter could be heard, creating an echo of an unending loop, Harry felt Draco’s magic pulse wildly before quickly leaving his mind altogether.

Harry kneeled in front of Draco, taking his hands into his own. “Are you alright?”

“Harry,” Draco began in exasperation. “I’m  _fine_. Brings back some memories, but I have handled that and much worse.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Draco smiled softly, pulling Harry off the ground. “You win.”

Harry leaned back, eyes lighting up in delight. “I did well then? The construction was solid?”

“Solid? No. I could sense many spots that your magic hadn’t been able to fully reach, but that was your first attempt, and it was a good one.” Draco was clearly proud and that alone had Harry’s heart skipping several beats. “You exceeded my expectations. That’s hard to do, you know.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Only because your standards are too high to be normal.”

“And yet, you exceeded them anyway.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Harry couldn’t wipe the smile off his face if he tried.

“Don’t get too cocky, Potter.” Draco tried to be serious, but Harry could tell he was only teasing.

“I want you to perfect that design. I want you to keep practicing projecting and to also stretch out your magic as well.”

Harry nodded, realizing that the lesson was coming to a close, but he made no attempt to move—too comfortable to get up.

“We won’t have another lesson for two weeks.”

That had Harry frowning. They had been meeting once a week since the beginning. “Why?”

“Because I want to make sure you are giving yourself ample opportunities to perfect your layout. That lesson will be our last one. If you can show me a finished mental barrier, and it can withhold my attempts at breaking open your mind, then I will tell Newman you are good to go.”

Harry looked down, not meeting Draco’s eyes. He knew it was silly, but he looked forward to these meetings, loved spending time with Draco.

A finger underneath his chin forced Harry to look up. “You know that the end of our lessons isn’t the end of us, don’t you?” Draco cupped his cheek, thumb soothing a circle into his skin. “We spend our nights together, most of your hideous clothes are in my drawers and my wards bend to your magic because they are traitors and recognize you as my partner. This isn’t going to change anything.”

“I know.” Harry  _did_ know that. “It’s just—do you think you can find some time to still teach me things?”

A brilliant smile adorned Draco’s features and Harry had no warning before his boyfriend threw himself at him, knocking them backward.

“You really do like my teaching?”

Harry carded his fingers through Draco’s hair that was tied at the nape of his neck. “I really do. It’s fun for me, and I would love to learn more.”

“You can’t take that back,” Draco warned, kissing Harry’s neck. “I’m going to teach you  _so_ much. Hogwarts was lacking in just about everything, not to mention most of the theories are half-finished or archaic.”

There was a pause, and Harry knew that Draco was already forming lesson plans in his head.

“Will you teach me too?” Draco asked softly. “Whatever you want, even muggle things. I just want this to go both ways.”

“I’d like that,” Harry returned, emotions he wasn’t prepared to voice began swelling strongly.

By the way Draco’s arms tightened around him, Harry wondered if his emotions were transparent. When Draco continued to press soft kisses to his neck, Harry knew that was Draco’s own way of returning the sentiment.

That was enough, for now.

 

* * *

 

 

“I can’t believe  _this_ is what you wanted your favor for,” Draco complained, adjusting Harry’s tie in the dim light from the hallway. “I was kind of hoping it would be sexual.”       

Harry craned his neck, trying to look past Draco and into the Ministry ballroom. It was a charity function that all employees were encouraged to attend. “I hate these things. If I was going to suffer, then you should have to as well.”

“You aren’t the only one who hates functions such as this.”

That, Harry knew well. Draco complained about enough anyway. “If it makes you feel any better, Ron and Hermione are somewhere inside.”

Draco’s brows rose. “I think that makes me feel worse, actually.”

Harry laughed lowly, eyes taking in Draco’s robes that were open to show him in another sheer shirt—this one white and it glimmered in the light—and fitted grey trousers that weren’t as tight as Draco usually donned to wear. “You look beautiful.”

The blush that spread on pale cheeks had Harry pulling Draco into his arms. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” Harry figured Draco only said that since he had been the one to dress him.

“Let’s go make a spectacle of ourselves,” Harry ordered, hands running down Draco’s side. “I want to scandalize all the people I dislike and leave several guests questioning all life decisions that led them here.”

“Now  _that’s_ my kind of party.” Draco stepped back and looped their arms before walking into the ballroom.

Several heads turned, but they paid them no mind. They stopped near a table where champagne was floating in an elaborate display of the Ministry’s symbol. Each glass that was taken was immediately replaced, keeping the design in place.

It wasn’t long before Harry had people coming up to talk to him. It was always the same worship as always, each person aiming to get  _the_ chosen one to endorse their charity. Rarely was it non-profit or a worthy cause—not that Harry expected much if the organizations were associated with the Ministry.

Harry nodded politely to a woman who had been talking nonstop about things that he hadn’t been paying attention to. He looked behind him, trying to find Draco. He relaxed when he found his boyfriend in the company of not only Zabini and Parkinson but also Hermione and Ron.

“What do you say Mister Potter?”

Harry’s eyes snapped towards her earnest face and he winced internally. “Send an owl to my secretary and I’ll get back to you after looking it over.”

 Confusion was evident in her features, but Harry wasn’t even sure what he had been half agreeing to. “Excuse me, I have to get back to my date.”

When her eyes narrowed, Harry decided it didn’t matter what she had wanted, he wouldn’t be helping at all.

Harry walked away briskly, ignoring her ire directed at his back and made his way towards Draco.

“I didn’t like her,” Harry complained as he pushed into Draco’s arms. “I’m throwing her owl out when my secretary gives it to me.”

“You don’t have a secretary.” Draco ran his fingers through Harry’s hair and huffed when Harry pushed his head into the action.

“Ah, that would explain her confusion.”

Draco laughed, shoulders shaking with the movement. “It would have helped if you had been paying attention to her.”

“You know I can’t focus with so much going on. Plus, she opened with the usual fawning and that’s when I tuned her out.”

“How did you know he wasn’t paying attention?” Hermione asked curiously causing Harry to jump a little as he remembered their friends.

“I’ve been teaching him for months, I know when he isn’t listening.” The response was solid enough, but Harry knew that it went past that. They just knew each other well, especially after being in each other’s minds.

“People are staring at us,” Parkinson murmured. “It would help if you weren’t clinging to Draco.”

Harry grinned wickedly as he looked into Draco’s mischievous eyes. “Ready to scandalize?”

“Always,” Draco whispered before kissing Harry deeply. The fact that they were in public was making Harry hyperaware of his surroundings, but he didn’t care. Not when Draco bit his lip, pulling a moan forward.

Draco’s hands began roaming down Harry’s back and he wished they were somewhere more private.

“Fuck,” Harry gasped when Draco broke the kiss to begin mouthing at his neck. “Let’s go home.”

Draco lifted his head, eyes locking onto Harry’s. The expression on Draco’s face had Harry narrowing his eyes in thought.

“Are you sure?”

The eye roll had Harry letting out a huff as he felt himself pulled into Draco’s mind. They couldn’t leave the ball so early, especially not after their display, but the images in Draco’s mind was enough for now.

Harry watched a fantasy play out, one where the room was empty, and Draco had Harry bent over a table, fucking into him roughly.

“Fuck,” Harry whispered, tightening his hold on Draco. “I need more than this.” He exited Draco’s mind in time to see their friends share confused expressions.

“There’s an alcove in the back of the room,” Draco told him, already pulling Harry backward.

Harry grinned cheekily at their friends, eyes resting on Zabini and Parkinson. “Not the best first impression as Draco’s boyfriend, but it was nice seeing you tonight!”

Zabini snorted loudly, grinning when Parkinson glared at him. “I expect we will be seeing you soon, Potter.”

It probably was supposed to be a warning of some kind, but Harry could tell that Zabini was amused.

“You know we are going to make the front page of the Daily Prophet,” warned Harry as they entered the alcove.

Draco conjured curtains and then spelled them in place to hide them away from prying eyes. “I’d hope so, anything less would be an embarrassment. No one wants to be on the  _second_ page.”

The laugh Harry released quickly turned into a choked moan as Draco’s fingers unzipped his trousers. “I’ve been wanting you all day.”

The whispered admission had Harry’s head lolling to the side, giving Draco room to begin sucking a mark on his neck.

“Fuck, Harry,” Draco panted, hands immediately curling around his half hard prick. “You aren’t wearing pants.”

“I was running late, you know that. Besides, you like it better this way.”

Harry reached his hands down and quickly unbuttoned Draco’s trousers. He wanted to get his hands on Draco too, it was only fair.

The sound of Draco’s trousers hitting the floor barely registered when Draco began languidly stroking Harry.

Harry roughly pushed down Draco’s pants, mouth going dry at Draco’s freed cock. There was an elegance to the slightly curved length, something Harry was exasperated at. Even with his pants to the floor and pants to his knees, Draco  _still_ managed to be regal.

“Touch me,” Draco pleaded, hand tightening around Harry’s cock and thumb brushing across the slit.

Harry moaned, quickly complying. He wished they had time for more than just rushed hand jobs.

“ _Yes_ ,” Draco hissed, head falling to Harry’s shoulder as Harry’s began stripping Draco’s thick cock, relishing the cries of his name falling from a sinful mouth.

“I wish you could finger me,” Harry whispered, quickening the pace. “I know it would feel good, you stretching me open.”

“Harry,” panted Draco, mouth on his neck.

“Then you’d bend me over, just like in your fantasy. Mmm, I’d like that—the feel of you rutting inside me.”

“Fuck,” Draco swore, hand blurring rapidly.

And then— _fuck—_ I’d— _oh Draco_ —” Harry wasn’t sure what else he had been about to say.

“You close Harry?” Draco purred, head lifting and eyes boring into Harry’s.

The moment Harry slipped into Draco’s mind, Harry arched his back as his orgasm rushed through him, come spurting over nimble fingers and his own shirt.

A muffled cry of Harry’s name had him looking down in time to see Draco come, mouth falling open and neck straining as his head fell back.

Harry made sure to wait until Draco slumped forward, eyes looking into his own before he raised come soaked fingers to his mouth and sucked.

The whimper Draco released when Harry’s tongue slipped through the fingers had him smirking.

“You’ll be the death of me. A sexually satisfied death.”

Harry laughed loudly as Draco used a few cleaning charms on them. He pulled his trousers back on, resting against the wall to watch Draco do the same.

“But man, what a way to go,” Harry whispered as they opened the curtains and stepped out into the ballroom. Half the room was watching them, and Harry realized they hadn’t used any silencing charms—not that they had been particularly loud.

“We are  _so_ on the front page.”

Draco threw his head back, laughing freely as his arms wrapped around Harry’s waist and pulled him into a dance. The music had stopped when they had exited the alcove, so it should have been awkward swaying to absolute silence, but Harry had never had more fun in his life.

“We should do this again,” Harry mumbled as someone in the crowd had the sense to restart the music.

“Fumble in an alcove, publicly make a spectacle, embarrass our friends or scandalize the masses?

“All of it.” Harry winked when a few people came into his line of sight as Draco twirled him theatrically. “All of it and more.”

Harry had been dreading this function, but coming with Draco made it better—everything in his life was better with Draco.

_Everything._

* * *

 

“Show me what you got, Potter.”

The jibe had Harry rolling his eyes. This time, they weren’t sitting down. They were standing across from each other in different corners of the office. From the angle Harry was at, he could see the framed Daily Prophet article on Draco’s wall.  _The boy-who-fucks-in-public_ was by far his favorite title they have ever given him. Draco had laughed himself silly for hours after the morning edition had been sent out.

Harry took a deep breath, steeling his nerves as he formed his shield and then the layout of his design next. The added week had been helpful for Harry, even if he had missed the weekly session. The flickering image his shield had been two weeks ago was laughable to the solid construction it was now.

“I’m ready.”

“Legilimens.”

The magic entering his mind was the same as always, only it held a different vibe. This time, Draco was aiming to break open his mind, not to float in.

 Harry felt Draco’s magic pulsing around, looking for cracks or visible holes. When Voldemort’s laughter reverberated, he felt a moment of instability with Draco’s energy.

Draco stopped using exploratory methods and dived right into precise movements aimed to break through his shield.

The pressure to his layers was becoming a little worrisome, but Harry knew that he could maintain his magic.

A sound that wasn’t Voldemort’s cruel laugh had Harry freezing momentarily. What was that? There shouldn’t be any kind of disturbance that he hadn’t created.

No! Harry realized too late that Draco had been using his senses against him. The pressure that had been previously manageable was out of his ability to control.

Harry felt his layers breaking one at a time before all that was left was his foundation, and a simple nudge had the base cracking open and crumbling completely.

Flashes of memories tumbled forward, something Harry had always known could happen during their lessons. He recalled Draco’s advice for what happens when a shield breaks and summoned all his magic.

Instead of allowing Draco to view one memory at a time, he flooded hundreds of them at once. Images from his childhood, Hogwarts, and even the war. It was instantaneous, and he could tell by the way Draco’s magic receded slightly that it was working.

Emotions were a little harder for him to recall as the memories were, but he managed to throw every emotion he possibly could right at Draco.

With the memories still flowing and the emotions still raw, Harry flooded his mind with as many sensory traits he possessed. With a slight push of magic, it enhanced all three and created an overload.

All at once Draco’s presence was gone and he was alone inside his mind.

Harry opened his eyes and watched Draco’s knees buckle as he crashed to the ground.

“Draco!”

“I’m okay.” Draco’s voice was faint.

Harry rushed over when Draco didn’t get up like he expected, his eyes widened in horror when his boyfriend laid on his back on the floor. If Draco was breaking decorum to lie on the floor, then this was worse than he thought.

“You don’t look okay.” Harry bit his lip as he ran a few elementary diagnostic spells on Draco. When they came back with just exhaustion, Harry relaxed—mostly. “You’re laying on the floor.”

“Worth it.” Draco’s eyes were closed, and he was panting heavily, but there was a small smile on his face. “That was incredible.”

“Was it?” Harry was doubtful. “You broke through my shield easily.”

 Draco opened one judgmental eye. “It wasn’t easy. It took a lot of my power to distract you enough to break through. And then you overloaded me in the end. I’ve  _never_ had someone do that to me. It really was incredible.”

The praise had Harry’s cheeks pinking. “Why am I not as exhausted as you?”

“You pushed me out of your mind. If I had met no resistance after your shield broke, then you would be the one to feel like this, probably worse too.”

“Do you want a Pepperup potion?”

Draco shook his head. “I’ll be fine in a few minutes. Just lay with me?”

“I can do that.” Harry settled himself into Draco’s side and rested his head on a strong chest. “Was it enough to pass?”

Draco snorted. “Yes. I would still recommend doing your exercises, and in about a month we do a follow-up meeting.” There was a pause as Draco ran his fingers through Harry’s hair. “You, Harry, have mastered Occlumency.”

Harry grinned as he was engulfed in satisfaction. “I almost can’t believe it. I was so worried about learning it and I’ve finally done it.” He pressed a kiss to Draco’s chest. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I know.”

“Prat.”

Draco laughed warmly, the sound still Harry’s favorite thing to hear. “I love you.”

Harry inhaled sharply, head snapping up. “I love you too, Draco.” He didn’t wait for a response before he kissed Draco soundly.

Hands pulled Harry fully on top of Draco before reaching down to squeeze his arse. “Tonight, when I’m not a mess, you will fuck me.”

Harry grinned at the demand, smiling into the kiss. “Yes, sir.”

“Good, and right now you will let me hold you.”

This time Harry didn’t say anything, just settled into Draco’s arms, content to do nothing more than spend the afternoon napping on the ground.

 

* * *

 

 

“Potter!” Harry held back from leaving with the rest of the trainees. His mind was trying to think of something he would have done to earn Newman’s ire. She was standing by her desk, arms folded across her chest and her eyes were narrowed.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Malfoy just sent me this.” One hand lifting a parchment from the desk and brandishing it with a flourish.

Harry leaned forward, eyes squinting at the distance. “Is that…” He stepped closer, a smile lighting up his face as he trailed off.

“Your Ministry approved certificate showing you have mastered Occlumency.”

The moment her hand extended, offering his certificate, Harry snatched it up and peered at it intently.

Harry’s name was gleaming in dark green ink that was striking in comparison to the pale parchment. All of his hard work had led up to this and Harry was going to frame this certificate and place it over his fireplace.        

“Don’t get too excited, Potter.”

“Huh?” Harry looked up, brows arching when he saw Newman in a combative stance.  

“Before I can sign off on this, I need to see your Occlumency for myself.”

That had Harry sighing. All he wanted to do was find Draco and go back to his flat. “Alright. Let’s make this quick.”

The offended noise she made had Harry trying not to grin. He quickly centered his magic, diving into his shield and setting up the outward appearance. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

Newman’s eyes narrowed before she pulled out her wand. “Legilimens.”

The presence of foreign magic had Harry’s gut twisting. He didn’t like the feel of Newman’s magic. It wasn’t as welcoming as Draco’s.

Magic was flitting around Harry’s shield, trying to find any weaknesses. When Voldemort’s laughter rang outward and the darkness sharpened further, he felt Newman leave his mind at once.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Newman panted, hand covering her chest. “A little warning would have been nice. I might be traumatized.”

Harry rolled his eyes, smirk prominent as he ignored her complaints entirely. “So, what will it be?”

Newman sighed heavily. “You pass.”

Harry whooped loudly, unable to contain it as he ran towards the door.

“Tell Malfoy that he did a good job.”

“I will, later.” He sent her a wink. “I’m going to fuck him silly first.”

The cackle of laughter that followed him out the hall had Harry grinning widely.

Harry ran down three corridors and slammed open the door to the conference room where Draco gave monthly lectures to certain departments in the Ministry.

Dozens of heads swiveled towards him, but Harry ignored them in favor of rushing towards Draco, who was at the head of the room frozen mid-lecture.

“Harry, what are doing here? Are you alright?”

Harry threw himself at Draco, knowing that his boyfriend would catch him. He wrapped his legs around Draco’s waist and grinned down into wide eyes.

“Newman passed me.”          

Draco’s smile was just as large as Harry’s and the sight had Harry melting. “Congratulations.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” Harry began peppering Draco’s face with kisses.

“We are in the middle of something!” Someone in the background yelled out as a few employees chuckled.

“Lecture is dismissed,” Draco called out, managing to sound firm despite Harry mouthing against his neck. “I will reschedule for next week.”

The flutter of movement spurred Harry on. “I think that might have one of them reporting to the Daily Prophet.”

“Considering most of the interns from the Daily Prophet were in that lecture, you’d be right.”

That had Harry cracking up, breaking the cloud of lust that his mind had lost to. “Oops.”

Draco carried Harry over to a chair and sat them both down. “Don’t pretend you wouldn’t have done it all over again knowing they were there.”

Harry grinned sheepishly, unable to refute the statement. “I can’t believe it. I passed.” He still had the certificate in his hands, and wasn't sure he was going to let it go anytime soon. “Thank you for this, by the way. I really don’t think I would have been able to master Occlumency if I had had a different teacher.”

“Yes, you would have,” argued Draco hands coming to cup both of Harry’s cheeks. “You were a wonderful student and any teacher would have been able to mold you.”

“Well, I’m just glad it was you.”

Draco pecked Harry lightly on the lips, thumb caressing his bottom lip. “Me too.”

“It’s going to be so weird not walking to your office for my lessons anymore.”

Draco’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “I can always teach you to master Legilimency next.”

“Wait. What?” Harry searched Draco’s eyes, shivering when he realized what Draco was implying.

“Fuck, sign me up.”

Harry watched Draco throw his head back, laughter shaking the both of them and he had to marvel at how funny life works out sometimes.

His lessons in Occlumency started out as a reluctant order, something he dreaded and wished he didn’t have to do. But Draco changed his viewpoint on a lot more than just Occlumency.

Draco was more than what most people see on the surface—someone who cared deeply but was never given the chance to show it. His boyfriend had a thirst for knowledge but wanted to share it with the world—something Harry adored.

He had known the moment he entered Draco’s office that things were going to change, but Harry hadn’t ever anticipated falling in love. That was an unexpected outcome, but one he wouldn’t change for the world. Draco taught him a lot during their lessons, things that Harry would take with him, and ideas that honestly shaped his way of thinking.

Harry was grateful that he had been tasked to learn Occlumency. And who knows, maybe he’d take a liking to Legilimency too.

 

_-fin-_

 

 

**Bonus Scene**

 

“I don’t get it,” Ron whispered to himself, eyeing Harry and Malfoy closely. “What am I even seeing?”

Harry and Malfoy were sitting on the couch, Harry’s head in Malfoy’s lap, both wrapped up in an odd one-sided conversation.

“Oh  _please,_ ” Harry contradicted, lips twitching. “Don’t pretend you weren’t eyeing the alcove during the Remembrance Ball last month.

Malfoy huffed, eyes rolling, but mouth remaining closed.

“It probably involved round two of your public sex fantasies.” Ron cringed at the blunt honesty. He watched the two of them go silent as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“I knew it,” Harry triumphantly cried. “Next time, we’ll forego the alcove altogether and just find a dark corner.”

“Please don’t,” Ron begged, still baffled that Harry was able to have a conversation with no input from Malfoy whatsoever.

Malfoy smirked, shooting Ron a look that meant he wouldn’t like whatever was about to be said.

“Are you sure about that, Weasley? Voyeurism is nothing to be ashamed of, you know.”

Ron groaned, shaking his head rapidly. “Why are you two so weird?”

Malfoy scoffed, sharing a look with Harry that lasted a few seconds beyond normal. “I agree with Harry, it’s just natural urges, that’s all.”

Ron looked to the ceiling. Harry hadn’t  _said_ anything at all. Staying in the same vicinity with the two of them was never a good idea—a headache was beginning to form. He left the two lovebirds alone, mind still trying to figure out how they were able to communicate without words.

Maybe it was best Ron didn’t look into it too hard. He had a feeling he wouldn’t like the answer. Ron could only handle them in a limited quantity to begin with.

One last fleeting look showed Harry and Draco staring into each other’s eyes, this time no words flowing at all.

At least they could be odd together. That was something.   

**Author's Note:**

> When I saw this prompt, I knew I wanted to explore how important the trust and communication in Occlumency/Legilimency would be. There wasn't a whole lot to go on when it came to Occlumency, coming up with the magical theory was something I had previously thought about but never this in depth. Draco requiring Harry to truly consent to the lessons was everything. Because it would be vital when trusting each other. There was no trust when Harry 'learned' from Snape, and that was sad to me. 
> 
> This story was made out of a lot of frustration, love, and limited patience. I hope you all enjoyed this story and I thank you for reading it!


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